


Mirror Mirror on the Wall

by soulfulsin



Series: Mirror Mirror [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 1987), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, Plot Devices, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: 1987 Webby Vanderquack is in for a surprise when she walks through an antique mirror and finds herself in another McDuck Manor, this time confronted by another version of herself and the boys.Meanwhile, on the other side, the boys, riddled with guilt over losing her, end up making matters worse. Now they need Magica's help to repair the mirror and Magica's help always comes with a price.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue this, I might not. I had a similar idea with Foster’s years back that didn’t pan out. This makes more sense than the Foster’s fanfic did, I hope.
> 
> Also, can I say how friggin’ hard it is to keep both Webbys’ voices in my head simultaneously? Probably has more to do with my watching the original more recently than the reboot than anything else. The boys came in loud and clear, though.
> 
> One more thing. Takes place after “The Shadow War” and contains spoilers for the season finale.

Webbigail Vanderquack knew better than to go poking around in Uncle Scrooge’s belongings. She knew better, but the triplets had dared her and gotten her blood up. She’d just gone into one of his private rooms for a quick peek, nothing more, she told herself. After all, she didn’t want to get in trouble. She was only doing this to show the boys she could be just as brave as they were. Hugging her dolly to her chest, she walked up to a mirror, which wasn’t showing her reflection, but other people, people she recognized yet looked completely different.

For one thing, the triplets were all dressed differently. Louie had on a hoodie, Huey’s look was the closest to the one she knew, but his voice was off, and Dewey had only the blue shirt, no hat. Their voices, come to think of it, sounded dissimilar, like three separate people rather than one person split three ways. Curious, Webby poked the mirror and the surface shimmered. Startled, she stepped back.

“Hey, Webby, what’s this?” one of the triplets called and Webby looked around. But no one around her had called her name. A figure stepped forward wearing a pink bow, a purple shirt, and a pink skirt. Webby froze; the girl before her looked confident and moved her body like she could use it as a weapon. Drawn forward again, she crept until her beak pressed against the glass, which shimmered again. This time, Webby didn’t retreat.

“Oh, that’s actually a portal to another dimension,” the girl said in an offhand tone. “It’s not normally active, though. Huh.”

She took another step forward and their eyes met. Webby yelped, thinking she ought to flee and tell the boys that she’d fulfilled their dare. Yet her feet remained glued to the floor. She ought to look away, too, but couldn’t bring herself to do that either.

“Hi! I’m Webby!” the girl announced brightly from the other side of the mirror. “Don’t be afraid--I don’t bite.”

“She does get really excited, though,” one of the boys warned.

“Can you go through this thing?” another boy asked, the one who looked like Dewey.

“I don’t know…” the girl who shared her name mused. “I’ve never tried.”

Cautious and curiosity again getting the better of her, though she knew she ought to turn tail and run, perhaps seeking out Uncle Scrooge, she ventured her arm through the mirror. It passed through like she was waving through water and she exclaimed. Before she had a chance to snatch it back, the other four grabbed onto it and pulled her through.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, feeling awkward with her back against the mirror. The glass was cool behind her but showed no inclination toward returning to a portal. Webby’s heart raced. The other four were giving her equally inquisitive glances, but nothing condemning. Just quizzical, like they didn’t know what to make of her.

She felt the same way.

“Huey, Dewey, and Louie?” she asked in a tremulous voice.

They gawked at her and she huffed, stomping her foot. “It’s not nice to stare!”

Never mind that she was staring too.

“Hey, I’ve seen that doll before,” Dewey commented. “Isn’t that the same doll you have pinned to your board?”

“Yeah, I outgrew that years ago,” the girl said in an offhand tone, sounding embarrassed. “I’m way too old to play with dolls.”

“She’s acting like she knows us,” Huey said with a frown. “If this is a portal to another dimension, then we must exist in that other dimension too. And...she must be your counterpart. Webby, meet Webby.”

“She’s kinda girly…” Louie commented with a frown. “You two don’t look much alike. Or act much like, come to think of it.”

“How do you know we don’t act alike if you don’t know me at all?” Webby countered. She glowered at the boys and folded her arms across her chest. What she wanted was to return to her own world, but the mirror wasn’t obliging her. She wasn’t sure why, either. Twisting, she regarded the mirror, which was only showing a reflection of the room around her and the five of them, not the darkened vault she’d been in before.

“We need to call her something,” Dewey said. “Something to distinguish the two of you. How about you can be Webby number 1 and this one will be Webby number two?”

The other Webby moved forward and pressed her palm against the glass. She frowned thoughtfully. “It looks like this mirror is only one way right now. I remember reading somewhere that it works once a day. I guess you’re stuck here until then, other me.”

“You mean I won’t be able to get home?” Webby squeaked, dismayed. “But...what will I tell my granny? And Uncle Scrooge? Oh, the boys are gonna get it. And me too, because I wasn’t supposed to be in here.”

“We’ll explain it to them tomorrow,” Louie said, looking uncertain. His brothers nodded, though they too shared dubious looks.

“What am I going to do?” Webby moaned.

“Since you’re here, you might as well take a look around,” the other Webby suggested with a wide smile. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to stay here cooped up in that room until the mirror works again, would you? We can show you around--although I guess if your granny is the housekeeper there too, you don’t really need a tour--and you can hang out with us.”

She gestured for Webby to follow and the younger duckling cast one last miserable glance back at the mirror before trailing after them. As she did, she overheard Dewey said, “Man, she doesn’t really act like our Webby, does she?”

“Different upbringings,” the other Webby said confidently. “Nature versus nurture or a combination of the two. But that doesn’t mean that she can’t do things that I can do or vice versa. Maybe she’s just shy.”

“I have a hard time imagining you being shy,” Dewey said dryly.

“Like I said, she must’ve been brought up differently,” the other girl mused. She frowned, contemplative. “She looks younger than us, too.”

“How can she be?” Huey said, though he too appeared thoughtful. “Unless time flows differently in that universe than it does here.”

“It’s possible…” the other girl said.

“Are we even sure that’s Webby?” Louie scoffed. “She hasn’t said her name.”

“I am Webby,” the pink dressed girl protested, adamant. “You’re just as mean here as you are at home!”

“What are you talking about?” Louie said, likewise appearing offended. His beak wrinkled in distaste. “All I did was mention that you didn’t say your name. All you’ve done since you’ve gotten here is complain that you need to go home.”

“Dude, she got here five minutes ago,” Huey reminded him. “She’s probably still in shock.”

“I am not in shock! You take that back!” Webby sniffed.

The three boys turned as one to look at the other Webby, the older one, who still maintained an air of composure and self-confidence. Was it something that came with age? One of the boys had mentioned that Webby had had her old pink doll and then stopped carrying it around. Then again, the other Webby had also mentioned nature versus nurture.

“Well…” the other Webby demurred, shrugging. “We might as well take her to Uncle Scrooge and see what he has to say.”

“Other than ‘you cannae keep running around in my bin’,” Louie imitated. “Man, we’d never get to do anything fun if we listened to him.”

“Except go on adventures,” Dewey reminded him.

“We haven’t done anything lately,” Louie groused. He looked over at her again and she felt small, inferior. She’d always felt inferior to the boys, though. They always acted so much older and more mature, like she couldn’t possibly compete.

“I’d like to go on an adventure,” Webby ventured.

“Why can’t you?” the other Webby said, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “I go with Scrooge and the others all the time. Sometimes Granny even tags along.”

“Oh, my granny would never let me adventure,” Webby pouted. “And the boys say I’m too little to go with them.”

They walked out of the room and right into a mirror image of Uncle Scrooge. Well, maybe a mirror with flipped colors. This Scrooge wore red instead of blue, but other than that, he resembled hers. Webby found herself relaxing. Scrooge would never let anything bad happen to her.

“What’s this?” he asked and then frowned at them. “I thought I told you not to go mucking about in my storage bins?”

“We were curious...and it is raining outside...and, well, the mirror just kinda popped out at us, and, well, look,” the other Webby said and the boys pushed Webby forward. Webby huffed, trying her best to look and feel older than she was. It was unsuccessful and she hugged her doll tighter.

“She says her name’s also Webby,” Huey supplied.

“But she’s just a wee lass!” Scrooge objected.

“I am Webby,” she protested, lower beak quivering. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. The boys dared me to go in because they said I’m always such a baby so I went in to prove them wrong and then I got pulled through.”

“Oh, aye, that mirror,” Scrooge said and the other Webby toed the floor with a sheepish smile.

“What other boys?” Scrooge asked her gently.

“The other versions of Huey, Dewey, and Louie. The big meanies,” Webby clarified. “They never let me play with them, they always make fun of me, and they always go off on adventures without me. It’s not fair.”

“I literally see no resemblance between this Webby and you,” Louie said in an aside to the older girl. “And don’t tell me ‘nature versus nurture’. You’re the cooler Webby. By far.”

The other girl blushed and toed the floor shyly. Webby noticed as she did that her shadow didn’t quite move with her. For a split second, it looked like it belonged to someone else, someone taller with a streak through her hair. Confused, she stared a moment longer, but Webby’s shadow returned to normal.

“So I suppose you’re stuck here until the next time the mirror opens up,” Scrooge said and suppressed a sigh. “Better make yourself at home here, lass. And you four--no more rummaging through my archives!”

“Yes, Uncle Scrooge,” the four of them chorused. Scrooge knelt down beside Webby and tousled her hair. Webby beamed at him.

“Mind you be careful with them,” he said. He smiled, though, as he said it as if he thought her made of sterner stuff. “They can play a bit rough.”

“Us?” Dewey objected. “Webby tracked us down with a dart gun and hunted us like animals.”

“You weren’t getting into it,” Webby said, shrugging. “You didn’t even give your characters backstories.”

Scrooge rolled his eyes and stood up. “I’ve got a few accounts I need to look in on, so I’ll be back later. Behave, you four.”

“Behave, he says,” Louie mimicked as soon as Scrooge was out of earshot. “I’m not the one who was wearing my arch enemy around my neck for fifteen years. He even kissed that dime.”

“Ew,” his brothers said and the other Webby grimaced.

“Let’s just say that the McDuck family and the de Spell have an interesting history,” she said. “And leave it at that.”

Her shadow bristled, which was weird because since when did shadows tense? Webby poked at it with her foot.

“Your shadow doesn’t seem to belong to you,” Webby said, frowning.

“What?” the other Webby said, confused and dismayed. She twisted around to examine it herself. “Looks normal to me.”

“Maybe I was seeing things,” Webby allowed, though she didn’t think she was. Something odd was going on here.

“C’mon, I’ll show you the rest of the manor,” the other Webby volunteered, uneasy. She held her hand out for the younger girl to take and she did, though she kept a close eye on her shadow too, in case it was contagious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the other side of the mirror, the 1987 triplets worry about the repercussions of their actions.

Two hours had passed and, finally, the boys dared themselves to venture into the archive where Webby had gone missing. They saw nothing to indicate she’d gone on, save for a single white feather near an ornate antique mirror. Miserable, the boys exchanged looks. They were going to be in a heap of trouble if Webby didn’t turn up sooner or later. Not to mention they were actually feeling a little guilty about daring her to come in here. They ought to have known better; Webby was desperate to prove herself to them. It wasn’t her fault--she couldn’t help being a girl.

“What are we gonna tell Unca Scrooge?” Dewey moaned. He poked at the mirror’s surface, which only showed the three of them. Whatever Webby had seen or not seen was invisible now. Huey paced about the mirror to see if maybe there was something behind it, somewhere that Webby might’ve gone to hide. However, the mirror was just that; a floor length mirror up against the wall that reached high over their heads and touched the floor. If anything, the glass was dusty, as Mrs. Beakley probably didn’t venture in here often to clean, if at all.

“And Mrs. Beakley?” Louie added. “They’re gonna be so upset with us when they find out Webby went missing.”

“We don’t have to tell them,” Huey said. “We could just say we don’t know where she went.”

“And how long will that work?” Dewey said sarcastically. “An hour?”

“If we tell Unca Scrooge the truth, we’ll be in trouble,” Louie argued. “We weren’t supposed to be in here and neither was she.”

“Stupid girls,” Dewey muttered, scuffing his feet on the floor. 

“What do we do now, if we don’t tell them?” Louie pointed out. “We can’t keep putting it off indefinitely. What if she never comes back?”

The boys were so close that it felt like they shared a stomachache, not to mention guilt. Sometimes it felt like they were part of a whole, rather than three separate ducklings. That had never bothered them before, but guilt tripled was worse than just one of them feeling lament. Plus, Unca Scrooge was going to be furious. 

“She can’t never come back,” Huey said, his voice quivering. “She has to return sometime, doesn’t she? She’s not gone forever.”

“We don’t know where she went,” Dewey pointed out. “It could’ve been anywhere. Any time. We don’t know how any of this stuff works.”

“We have to tell Unca Scrooge, don’t we?” Louie said, lowering his head.

“Yeah…” the other two chorused, grimacing. 

“Might as well go, then,” Louie said and the three trudged down the hallway toward Scrooge’s office. The multi-billionaire was on the phone with someone, though they couldn’t tell who right now. They decided, the anxiety twisting their insides, to wait until he was finished. After all, bad news could wait, right? Maybe while they procrastinated, Webby would turn up and they wouldn’t have to tell him after all.

All too soon, their great-uncle was finished and turned to them.

“Why the long faces, lads?” he asked, frowning too. “You look like you just ate something bad. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Webby,” Huey blurted out and his brothers gave him a dirty look. Couldn’t he have held on a little while longer? True, they were all antsy and were afraid now to meet Uncle Scrooge’s gaze. For reasons they couldn’t quite understand, he was fond of Webby. 

“We don’t know where she is,” Dewey added. “We dared her to go into your old archive room and touch the mirror, but when we went to find her, she was gone!”

“You did what?” Scrooge demanded and the triplets cringed. “Don’t you know that mirror’s cursed?”

They shook their heads and he sighed.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “And now you’ve roped my wee little Webbigail into it. Oh, my poor lassie.”

“What would the mirror do to her?” Louie asked, envisioning all matter of gruesome things. The triplets shuddered again. “We didn’t mean to get her in trouble, honest!”

“Once a day, sometimes less, that mirror becomes a portal to another dimension,” Scrooge said. “She must’ve stepped through or been pulled through.”

“Oh…” the triplets said in unison, looking down at the floor. “We’re sorry, Unca Scrooge.”

“I don’t doubt that you are, lads,” he said and scowled. “But what were you thinking, daring her to do that? You always give wee Webbigail the short end of the stick because she’s a girl.”

“She’s a girly girl,” Dewey protested. “Always with her dolly and her dress-up and tea parties. Blech.”

“She isn’t good enough to hang out with us,” Huey added.

“Aye, and don’t you think that if she agreed with you, she would’ve stayed away from me mirror?” he asked and they glanced down again, ashamed. 

“There’s nothing for it but to wait,” he said and then frowned. “The only other way to get into the mirror world is to use magic and I won’t be asking Magica for any favors.”

“What if she’s really in trouble?” Dewey said, anxious. “What if the other dimension is full of mean, vicious creeps who prey on little girls?”

Their stomachs clenched and the low level telepathy that buzzed between them made them shift their feet in unison too. They were used to thinking and doing everything in concert, so used to it in fact that to have been separated would’ve been unbearable. They couldn’t envision being distinct personalities because they were three parts of a whole.

“I don’t think that’ll happen,” Scrooge said. “But who knows what kind of mischief the alternate dimension might produce? If she doesn’t come back within the day, we’ll have to call upon Magica.”

He scowled. “Treacherous sorceress that she is. She’ll probably beg for me number one dime to help us or else torment me about it.”

“You wouldn’t really give her your number one dime over Webby, would you?” Huey said. “It’s your number one. She’s just a girl.”

Scrooge’s eyes flashed and Huey took an involuntary step back. He’d gone too far. 

“She’s family,” he barked. “And that’s something you should remember when you’re tormenting the poor lass.”

He slammed his cane down and he pushed away from his desk. “Let’s see if I can do anything about the mirror, boys. All hope isn’t lost yet.”

The trio followed in his wake as they returned to the scene of the crime. They watched Scrooge poke and prod at the mirror which remained, to everyone’s dismay, nothing more than a reflecting glass. Scrooge sighed, stepping back. 

“There’s nothing for it,” he said.

“If we broke the mirror, could we get her out?” Huey asked and Scrooge scoffed.

“You’d trap her in there,” he said. “Leaving her prey to whomever or whatever is behind the glass. You wouldn’t want to do that, boys.”

His gaze turned sharp. “Would you?”

“We don’t like her, but that doesn’t mean we’d wanna strand her,” Louie protested. “We didn’t mean to put her in there in the first place! It’s not her fault she’s a girl.”

“No, it isn’t,” Scrooge said and he scrutinized them. “I’ll have Duckworth stand sentry over the mirror in case anything changes. In the meanwhile, we are going to have a discussion about how to treat the fairer sex.”

It was on the tip of their tongues to protest, but there was no point. For one thing, they deserved a tongue lashing. After all, they’d done this to Webby, whatever “this” was. For all they knew, she could be being tortured right now. Or stranded in some remote arctic desert. Or drowning. They could’ve killed her. 

“Unca Scrooge, it is another world on the side, right? So, it’d just be a mirror version of ours, right?” Huey burst out desperately.

“I don’t know, lad,” he answered gravely. “I’ve never been tempted to look.”

Guilt swamped them and they were unable to lift their gazes from the floor.

“Don’t despair, lads,” Scrooge said. “She could be having tea with her doll for all we know.”

The triplets were afraid to contradict them. They doubted it’d be anything that innocuous and anyway, whatever befell Webby was their fault for compelling her to enter the room in the first place. How were they supposed to know the mirror was cursed? They refused to blame Webby for this, though. It was their own stupid fault.

They wouldn’t be able to eat or relax until Webby was back on their side. They owed her an apology in the very least. And maybe they should sit through one of her tea services to make up for it. Or not chase her away when they wanted to play. They could be nice to her on occasion. It wouldn’t kill them.

Scrooge went to locate Duckworth and they returned to their room. What they wanted to do was to sit vigil in front of the mirror, but what would that accomplish? Besides, Scrooge had already asked Duckworth. They sighed, sitting on their bunks.

They’d have to tell Mrs. Beakley. Perhaps they’d be fortunate and Scrooge would inform her. Still, Webby was her only family. She would be distressed. They hung their heads.

“We gotta do something,” Huey said.

“But what?” Dewey inquired.

“We should go in there and get her back,” Louie vowed. “We put her in this mess. We should be the ones to bring her back out.”

“We’ll have to be sneaky about it…” Huey mused and the trio put their heads together to plan this out. If they fetched Webby from the alternate dimension, assuming there was something of her to retrieve, then no harm, no foul, right? Well, maybe not. They doubted the adults would see it that way. But it was worth a shot.


	3. Bonus Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Webby 2 realizes that 2017 DuckTales universe is a bit more...advanced than her own. And also, a bit cooler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, peeps, you guys get a bonus chapter this week, courtesy of the fanart I received from Deverick_Racoma and also because I realized that Bad Touch is one chapter ahead of Mirror Mirror. 
> 
> I’m posting this in a hurry, as I have to be somewhere in twenty minutes, so any errors or typos or what have you are gonna stay.

“So,” Huey said conversationally. “What’s it like living in an alternate dimension?”

Webby startled, surprised that one of the triplets was willingly initiating conversation with her instead of ignoring her like they normally did. She looked around as if he might be addressing someone else, some other person who had just hopped out of an interdimensional mirror. A few seconds later, she realized she was the only possible person he could’ve been addressing.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I didn’t know my world was any different than yours until I was here.”

Louie pulled out a small device from his pocket and started poking at it. Webby gawked.

“What is that?” she asked, stepping closer to the green attired boy. They were walking toward the triplets’ room, or at least, where it was in her version of the manor. She stared at the screen, which showed some sort of computer interface. It was beyond her comprehension, whatever it was.

“Only the latest phone,” Louie said. “You don’t have one?”

“That’s a phone?” she exclaimed.

“Duh,” Louie said. “You don’t have a phone. You seriously expect me to believe you don’t have a cell phone.”

Stymied, she looked up and saw the other three produce similar devices, though Webby 1’s phone had small plastic gems on it. She was at a complete loss. Not only did Louie have one, but they all did, like this was commonplace. She’d never seen such a thing before, much less four of them.

“No...we don’t have cell phones…” she faltered. “I don’t know what a cell phone is.”

“It’s a cellular phone,” Louie said as if he was explaining this to a young duckling. Webby bristled, but at least this was familiar. The triplets were always condescending toward her.

“You know? You use it to make calls and watch videos and send messages to people and post on Instagram?” he continued.

“Insta-what?” she replied, baffled.

“What century are you living in?” Louie scoffed.

“The 20th,” she said stiffly. “What century are you living in?”

“The 21st,” Louie said and then did a double take. The four of them stared at her and she huffed, feeling like she’d made a faux pas somewhere but uncertain what she’d said that had them all perplexed. She hugged her dolly to her and imagined it as a cell phone for a second. What, exactly, had she said?

“What year do you think it is?” the other Webby asked slowly.

“It’s 1987, of course,” Webby said archly.

“Uh...no, it’s not,” Dewey said. “It’s 2017.”

“I’ve gone thirty years into the future?!” she shrieked, quivering in terror. “I’ve been gone for thirty years?!”

“You’d think you would’ve aged in all that time,” Louie said in an aside to his brothers and Webby ignored him. She hugged her dolly tighter and Huey stepped forward to put a hand on her shoulder. Unnerved by the gesture, as affection between herself and the triplets was few and far between in her world, Webby retreated a step and eyed him suspiciously.

“It is not 2017,” Webby retorted. “You’re lying to me.”

“Why would we be lying?” Huey asked.

“It really is 2017,” Dewey added. “We can show you a calendar if you don’t believe us.”

“It’s thirty years in the future and I’m married to Doofus,” Webby wailed. The other Webby looked baffled, as did the triplets. The other Doofus, if there was one, wasn’t here right now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appear at any minute and whisk her away. She did not want to marry him.

“Uh, no, you’re not?” Dewey said, looking to the others for backup. “We’re not even friends with him?”

“Uncle Scrooge said in the future, I marry Doofus,” Webby cried. “It’s the future, which means I must be married to Doofus!”

“You can’t be much older than us,” Huey reasoned. “If you aren’t younger, which, no offense, you look like you are. How could you possibly be married to anyone, let alone that creep?”

This startled her out of her dismay. “What? He’s not a creep. He just eats a lot.”

“No, he’s pretty creepy,” Louie said. His brothers nodded. Webby felt wrong-footed. She didn’t want to defend Doofus because she disliked him intensely, but they had it all wrong. They shouldn’t malign him, but then again, they knew a different Doofus. Perhaps their version of him was creepy.

And their version of McDuck Manor was 30 years in the future. Thirty years ahead, where she was still a kid and so were the triplets. Webby groaned, rubbing her temples. This hurt her head. How could any of this be possible?

“Are you okay?” Huey asked, sinking to the floor with her. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“You’re not marrying Doofus, are you?” Dewey asked Webby 1 in an undertone. “Because we might have to have a talk if you were.”

“No…,” she said, frowning. “I’m not.”

“Good,” Dewey said and smiled at her in a way that made Webby wonder what, exactly, their relationship was. It wasn’t like hers with her Dewey. They seemed almost like equals and Webby 1 smiled back, a small blush creeping across her cheeks.

“Hey,” Huey soothed and rubbed her back. “We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have pulled you through the mirror. This is a pretty big shock to you and it’s our fault.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Webby said. Her lower lip quivered and she vowed she wouldn’t cry. They had halted outside a room that Webby might’ve recognized as her own, except it had none of her pink and flowery things. In fact, it didn’t look the slightest bit girly. It was in the same space as Webby’s own room, which meant it had to correspond.

“Why don’t we hang out in Webby’s room and we can all talk about what it’s like to live in 1987?” Huey suggested.

“I already know what it’s like. It doesn’t have cell phones,” Louie said. “It sucks.”

Dewey frowned. “You don’t know anything about our mom, do you? If it’s thirty years ago there, maybe she’s still around.”

“No?” Webby said. “Your uncle Donald just showed up, dropped you off, and then never came back. Least, he hasn’t come back as far as I’ve seen. That’s all I know about your family beyond Uncle Scrooge.”

“Uncle Donald abandoned us?” Louie said in shock. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Where else would he go?” Webby asked, confused by how outraged and betrayed the triplets looked. Louie grabbed her sleeve and tugged her toward the window, where she could see Donald Duck grilling hot dogs and humming to himself as he flipped them. She looked from the window to the triplets.

“Uncle Donald left us and we were just okay with that?” Dewey said. “How can that possibly be?”

“He went to join the Navy,” Webby said, again feeling like she’d done or said the wrong thing but not sure where the line was. She didn’t like this game and wished she were at home and had never listened to the boys.

“And left us,” Dewey repeated. “Just like Mom…”

Webby searched their faces for an explanation and found none. She glanced at her counterpart, who was frowning and hugging them to her. Webby noticed the strange shadow again, the way it didn’t move in sync with her counterpart. She slapped a foot over it and heard a muffled yelp.

“What was that?” Webby 1 asked, drawing back from the boys.

“Your shadow,” Webby returned. “Didn’t you notice that it’s been acting strange?”

The other Webby gave her a shrewd glance like she knew more than she was saying. Uneasy, Webby retreated, still clutching her dolly for dear life. This was something she shouldn’t have stirred, but again, things were so different here it was hard to tell what was off-limits. The only reason she knew that Della Duck existed was that Uncle Scrooge had mentioned her once, in passing. But that was it.

“I don’t want to think about that right now,” Webby 1 said after a minute. Her shadow drooped.

“So, life in an alternate dimension thirty years ago,” Huey said, desperate to change the subject and avoid whatever prompted the loneliness and misery in Webby 1’s eyes. The boys patted her on the shoulder or squeezed her hand. Webby had the sense she was intruding on a private moment.

“What’s it like?” Huey continued.

Webby plopped onto the floor, as no one had invited her to sit on the bed. Like everywhere else, it was immaculate, though Webby spied a few unknown objects lurking beneath Webby 1’s bed. The triplets and Webby 1 sat on the bed and Louie was still holding Webby’s hand. Dewey was huddled up against her.

“To start with, you three are really mean in my universe and you’re always ordering me around or teasing me,” she sniffed. “That’s how I ended up here. They dared me to go to the mirror.”

“You don’t have to sit on the floor,” Webby 1 said. “Here, I’ll move over.”

She grabbed her pillows so that Webby had enough room to sit beside her. She found herself admiring her; even sitting normally, she had so much confidence and ease. Webby had never felt like more than a guest in Uncle Scrooge’s mansion. It was hard to feel like it was home when she was treated more like a servant than family. After all, she and her granny took their meals when the servants did; they almost never ate with the boys and Uncle Scrooge.

“You don’t like me ‘cuz I’m a girl,” Webby continued with a sniff.

“That’s not really a valid reason not to like someone,” Huey said with a frown.

“But don’t you and your grandmother live there?” Dewey asked. “Weren’t you there before them? So you have seniority.”

“No...Granny and I were hired on as help after the boys showed up,” she explained. “We’re still considered servants, mainly.”

At this, all three boys gawked at Webby.

“We’d never order you around,” Dewey said in shock. “You’d probably try to kill us.”

“I wouldn’t try to kill you,” Webby 1 scoffed, shaking her head. “But that explains her attitude. Servile. You must be afraid that you’ll lose your place in the house.”

“Not really…” Webby demurred. “Uncle Scrooge loves me. He says so, even if he doesn’t let me go on adventures either.”

“What do you do all day?” Dewey exclaimed. “Sit around the manor and clean?”

“And play with my dolls,” Webby said.

“This must be the most exciting thing that’s happened to you in ages,” Webby 1 said. She smiled at her and, bashful, Webby lowered her head.

“Do you ever go on adventures?” Dewey asked.

“Sometimes,” she said. “But not usually. That’s for the boys.”

“Are you sure you’re not living in the 1960s?” Louie asked. “You’ve got all those rigid gender roles going on.”

“Huh?” Webby said.

“I’ve done stuff,” Webby said defensively. She didn’t add that she usually had to sneak along; that wouldn’t improve their opinion of her. She wanted them to like her, for whatever good that would do her. More importantly, she wanted the other Webby to like her.

“Have you ever fought off all the Beagle Boys while running around Duckberg?” Webby 1 asked and she sighed. “I miss Lena.”

“Who’s Lena?” Webby asked and saw the boys frantically shaking their heads at her and miming closed lips.

“It’s not important,” Webby 1 said in a tone that indicated it was but that she didn’t wish to go into it. “You never want to go out with the boys? Or tell them that you’re going anyway, no matter what they say?”

“Sometimes I do,” Webby protested. “And sometimes they let me.”

“But you’re a trained agent! You’re not a spy, not like Granny, but you can defend yourself,” Webby replied.

“Granny’s not a spy…” Webby responded, perplexed. “Trained at what?”

“Webby, look at her,” Dewey said gently. “Do you really think she could fight anyone off? She’s the duck equivalent of a cinnamon roll.”

“I’m not...a cinnamon roll…” There seemed to be some shared cultural comment here, a subtext that Webby was missing. Why were they saying she was a pastry?

“Granny’s a housekeeper and I help her,” Webby said. “Why would I need to know how to fight?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Webby 1 asked, bouncing on the bed. “Granny taught me everything she knows in case something happens and I need to fight off bad guys or an international crime syndicate.”

“That sounds dangerous…” She studied the other girl more closely. Color suffused her cheeks and she had to admit, she was in awe. To illustrate her point, the other Webby jumped off the bed and performed a series of martial moves, kicking, punching, and spinning around. The boys were careful to stay outside of her reach.

“Now you try,” Webby 1 said.

She hopped off the bed, spun around, and then tripped over her own two feet.

“I told you,” Louie said. “She’s not like you, Webs. She’s not cool like you.”

“Does that mean I’m not cool either?” Dewey reflected. “I don’t have my own late night talk show, either?”

Bewildered again, she pushed herself to her feet and stared at the four of them. They had so much more going on than her version of them, not to mention her counterpart. Compared to them, she was the shadow. They were so vibrant and personality-driven.

“You and your brothers are kinda similar,” Webby admitted. “You all have the same voice and you sometimes act like you have telepathy or know what the other ones are going to say or do.”

“Ugh!” the trio said in unison and then looked at each other. “Okay, stop that! No, you guys, seriously! Stop!”

“They don’t normally do that,” Webby 1 explained. “Though it is pretty funny when they were trying to make a point about not speaking in unison.”

“It’s like you’re three parts of a whole,” Webby continued.

“We are, but not like that,” Louie said.

“We have our own personalities and interests too,” Dewey said.

“I wonder if it’d be possible to cross over and investigate for ourselves?” Huey mused. “But then we’d end up trapped over there for a day.”

“It’s only a day,” Louie replied.

“Okay, but can you survive without your phone for a day?” Huey pointed out.

“Why? Why would I have to leave it behind?” Louie asked like they were discussing leaving a small child behind rather than an electronic device.

“It probably wouldn’t work,” Huey responded.

“Not work?!” Louie exclaimed. “Okay, I’m out. I’m not going anywhere without my phone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Huey said, rolling his eyes. “We’ll go when we return Webby 2 to her universe.”

“Actually…” Webby said and flushed scarlet. “I think I like it here better. I think I’d rather stay here…”

After all, it appeared that here, Webby and her grandmother were equals, not subservient to Scrooge McDuck. Moreover, the boys were appreciative and not complete jerks and Webby got to go on adventures. She stared at Webby 1 with her eyes wide and admiring. She was so cool.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing increasingly anxious, the 1987 triplets wind up complicating matters further and break the mirror on their side. With no alternative, Scrooge is forced to deal with Magica and beg for her help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things to keep in mind. One, I'm a Dimeshipper (I multi-ship, but I doubt Goldie will make an appearance in this fic). Two, Magica is definitely trying to seduce Scrooge. I couldn't spell it out due to the rating on this fic, but there it is.

“How often does this mirror work, anyway?” Louie asked. The three of them were perched on the cold cement floor in front of the mirror. It hadn’t done anything remotely interesting and hunger gnawed at them, but they ignored it. They kept hoping they’d catch a glimpse of Webby through the glass, but all they saw were themselves. It was disheartening.

“I don’t know,” Dewey said. They’d sent Duckworth away, but he wouldn’t be gone for long. And he was bound to tell Scrooge what they were up to, not to mention they still hadn’t broken the news to Mrs. Beakley. On a whim, they cast their gazes at the mirror as if Webby might materialize by magic, but she didn’t. 

And Magica wouldn’t treatise with them without any collateral. Plus, she didn’t regard them highly. She was much more likely to listen to Unca Scrooge than them. Stymied again, they glowered at the mirror and their reflections glared back. Argh, this was ridiculous.

“We could stay here all night and nothing’ll happen,” Huey said, despondent. “How are we supposed to know when it’ll open back up so we can grab Webby and get out of there?”

“What if there’s no Webby to grab?” Dewey said. “What if we, you know…”

They swallowed hard. They didn’t want to imagine how angry Scrooge would be if Webby didn’t return, plus the guilt would probably eat them alive. It wasn’t that they hated her and they’d certainly never wish death on an enemy, let alone someone they considered an annoyance at worst. But it was all too easy to picture what could have befallen Webby in an alternate dimension, especially without someone to protect her.

“What if she’s…” Louie trailed off, afraid to finish the sentence. _“What if she’s dead?”_

“We can sleep here and take watches,” Huey suggested. “One of us will stay up for three hours and then another will take his place and so on. Maybe by the time we wake up, the mirror will be open again and we can go in.”

“What if we get trapped like Webby?” Dewey said. “Or if whatever happened to her happens to us?”

That was a sobering thought and all three stared down at the floor. It wasn’t just that they might’ve condemned Webby to death, but they could be consigning themselves to it too. Dewey kicked out at the mirror in frustration.

“What kinda cockamamie mirror is this, anyway?” Dewey demanded. “Why does Unca Scrooge have it? I thought he hated magic in all forms.”

“Dewey!” Louie and Huey cried, aghast. Dewey turned to spy what his brothers already had. Where he’d kicked the glass, spiderweb cracks had appeared and a piece of the mirror broke off to fall onto the floor. Horrified, they exchanged glances. Had they broken it? How hard had Dewey kicked it? 

The mirror appeared the same, save for the corner with cracks. Stricken, they stared at their reflections. 

“One of us has to tell Unca Scrooge…” Huey said, voice shaking. 

“Not me!” Louie and Dewey said at once. “We’re not telling him!”

Huey cast his brothers a long-suffering look and they didn’t speak, just pointed toward the exit. He knew his brothers would be there in spirit, but he didn’t appreciate being singled out. In general, none of them liked being singled out. Their power lay in being a group. Strip them away from that and what were they?

Sighing, Huey exited the room while his brothers fretted over the mirror. His heart felt heavier with every step. Trudging through the halls, head down, he sought out Scrooge. He wasn’t in his office nor was he in his bedroom. Of course, Scrooge had offices all over the place. He’d spent so much time in McDuck Manor that he’d spread out everywhere. Normally, that didn’t bother the boys. Now, however, it meant that Huey was wandering the halls and his anxiety racketed up every time he didn’t find him in an empty room.

“Huey, have you seen my Webby? It’s almost time for bed and I can’t find her anywhere,” Mrs. Beakley said from behind him and Huey jumped about a foot in the air. He looked around for his brothers to help him out, but of course they had remained behind with the mirror. His heart thumped and he cursed them again for abandoning him. Talking to Scrooge was one thing, but telling Webby’s only relative they’d lost her? 

“Uh, hi, Mrs. Beakley,” he said and considered lying. “About Webby…”

He almost hoped Scrooge was coming toward them so that their uncle could break the news instead of him. He had no such luck. The hallway remained deserted and Mrs. Beakley’s face was pinched with nerves. Huey drew a breath to brace himself.  
“You’ve seen her?” she gasped.

“We, uh, we kinda dared her to go into Unca Scrooge’s archive room,” Huey said, staring at his feet. “She went through a magic mirror and now we don’t know where she is.”

“You what?!” Mrs. Beakley exclaimed and Huey mumbled in response. He felt like he’d been crushed to the size of an ant.

“We, uh, we…” he trailed off.

“I heard you the first time! I can’t believe you would do something like that!” Mrs. Beakley exclaimed. Huey didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t the first time they’d dared Webby to do something dangerous because she’d been ticking them off. Besides, it wasn’t the time or the place to bring that up. Mrs. Beakley was freaking out.

“What if something happened to her? What if she’s--” she stopped, gulping. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her! We have to get her back!”

“That’s the thing, Mrs. Beakley,” Huey said, still staring at his feet as if they had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the mansion. “We don’t know how to get through the mirror. We only know that she went in ‘cuz we found one of her tail feathers near it.”

Huey lifted his head. “We’ll get her back somehow. We’ll go in there ourselves and bring her back.”

If there was anything to bring back. And if Dewey hadn’t damaged the mirror beyond repair. Huey’s stomach roiled and he was afraid to look into Mrs. Beakley’s eyes and see the disappointment and concern for Webby, that they’d given her and Unca Scrooge. And even though his brothers weren’t nearby, he could feel them sharing in his misery.

“Huey!” Louie cried, running up to him. They always had an innate sense of where the others were and besides, he hadn’t drifted too far from the archive room. Huey’s heart pounded harder. He had the sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever it was that had brought Louie here. 

“What’s going on?” Huey said, wishing he could draw him aside to prevent Mrs. Beakley from overhearing.

“The mirror!” Louie said. “It’s breaking itself!”

Horrified, he and Mrs. Beakley, with Louie leading the way, rushed back toward the archive room. They found the mirror was self-propagating the cracks, which had spread from side to side. They hadn’t reached the top yet, but they had demolished the bottom part of the mirror, up to about their stomachs. Huey felt sick looking at it.

Mrs. Beakley swooned and they rushed to prop her up. Despite this, their gazes were linked, one and all, to the mirror. Oh, they were in so much trouble. 

About fifteen minutes later, Scrooge arrived and inspected the mirror; he said nothing. This worried the boys immensely because they’d never seen their uncle so upset. Mrs. Beakley, revived, was staring at it too as if she could will Webby back to their universe. Horrible possibilities whipped through their minds. The mirror had broken all the way through, cracks from the bottom up to the top, where it disappeared against the ceiling. How could one kick have done so much damage? 

“If I didn’t know any better,” Scrooge snapped, whirling to glare at the boys. “I’d say you didn’t want Webbigail back!”

“We didn’t do it on purpose!” Dewey protested. “We were just thinking that we’d stand guard by the mirror all night in case she came through and we got frustrated and I kicked the mirror by accident.”

Scrooge scrutinized them in turn and they shrank under his imperious gaze. The last time they’d confronted such an angry version of their uncle, it’d been Magica’s mirage. This, however, was no spell. The boys shuffled uncomfortably.

“Can it be fixed?” Mrs. Beakley asked, wringing her hands.

“Oh, aye, it can,” he said and then he glowered at the boys again. “But I’ll have to ask Magica for a favor. I am not looking forward to that.”

Before, they had asked him whether it was worth it to bring Webby back. No one said that now. They hung their heads in shame. Scrooge would have to beg assistance from his mortal enemy and it was their fault. More pieces of the mirror flaked off and they thought they might be sick.

“What if she says ‘no’?” Mrs. Beakley asked. The boys were afraid to venture any opinion now. 

“I’ll have to make an offer she can’t refuse,” he said and grimaced. “Oh, I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Huey ventured.

“Stop trying to help in the first place!” Scrooge barked and they flinched. He muttered darkly to himself as he stormed out of the room and thudded his cane every few steps to show he meant business. If anything could’ve made the triplets feel worse, it was knowing they were the reason Scrooge was irate. And if Webby was hurt or worse...their minds kept cycling back to that.

“You three aren’t leaving the house,” Mrs. Beakley announced, turning an eagle eye on them. It was as if she’d divined that they’d wanted to try to head Scrooge off by going to Mount Vesuvius themselves. “No ifs or buts about it. You’re staying where I can see you.

“Oh, I wish Webby had done the same.”

“So do we,” Louie muttered, gaze downcast. “So do we.”

\----

Scrooge had forbidden the boys to accompany him to Mount Vesuvius. While they might have considered tagging along anyway, his towering rage was nothing to trifle with. It was an uncomfortable flight from Duckberg to Magica’s hideout with Launchpad attempting to make awkward conversation and Scrooge brooding, staring out the window. Magica probably knew more about that mirror than he did. And any help she offered, assuming she was even willing to do so, would be obtained at a hefty price. 

He fingered his lucky dime dangling on a necklace about his neck. All he could think about was poor Webbigail, trapped in that alternate dimension with who knew what happening to her. If he understood anything about the mirror, it was that it transported the user to wherever the other mirror was located. There was no guarantee that the other mirror was in McDuck Manor. It could’ve been anywhere, like Magica’s lair or the moon or trapped in a museum or buried in an archeological dig somewhere.

Beneath his fury, worry lurked. Provided Webbigail hadn’t reached a safe place, any one of his enemies would’ve been glad to get their hands on her and use her against his counterpart. They might have also foregone that and hurt her themselves for some reason or another. Plus, if the mirror had been at a dig, she could’ve transported into solid rock and suffocated. 

He was irate with the boys, make no mistake. However, he knew this wasn’t entirely their fault--they hadn’t known what would happen. Ignorance was no excuse, but Scrooge admitted he had a soft spot for his grand-nephews. They reminded him of him when he was a wee lad. Well, except for the whole mistreating females part. Where had they gotten that attitude from?

Launchpad landed without crashing, which was nothing short of a miracle. Scrooge managed a curt thank you, bade him to wait, and then, steeling himself, ascended the mountain to reach Magica. Magica was unpleasant at the best of times and knowing that she had Scrooge over a barrel would make her insufferable. 

He crept up the steps to her lair and kept his wits about him. A raven squawked overhead; Poe, Magica’s brother, must’ve been standing sentry. He was unsurprised, therefore, after trekking up the stairs, to find Magica waiting for him in her throne room. And make no mistake--it was a throne room, complete with the throne on which she sat, preening herself. 

“So, you’ve come to me,” Magica intoned, putting down the mirror and facing her enemy. “I must say that this is a welcome change of pace. What, perchance, do you need my help with?”

“A magic mirror,” he said and she raised her eyebrows.

“Oh?” she replied and a cruel smile curved her lips. “And what have you been doing, Scroogie, messing around with magic?”

“It wasn’t me, it was was me boys,” he said, waving that off. “They sent wee little Webbigail into it and then they broke it by accident, trapping her inside.”

Magica raised her eyebrows. “And that is my problem because why? That does not even take into account that your ‘wee little Webbigail’--” she sneered--”is not even family.”

“I still have the care of her and she is still my responsibility,” he retorted. “You’re changing the subject.”

“And I suppose you want me to fix your mirror, retrieve your wayward brat, and do it all out of the goodness of my heart?” Magica intoned and then laughed in his face. She hopped up from her throne, flounced over to him, and laughed again, this time to ensure he got the message. Scrooge glowered, smacking her with the cane to get her to retreat a step. She countered lazily, waving a hand to create a barrier between them.

“Darling, you know I have no ‘goodness’ in my heart,” she said. “And you and I both know that if you give up your number one dime to me, you will only attempt to wrest it back from me later and leave me bereft. I want something more permanent. Even assuming I help you, which I am having serious doubts about. I think I would rather see you suffer.”

“I know you don’t care much about me, Magica, but Webbigail’s a child. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“You are wrong,” Magica said and then paced around him, so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. Her breasts brushed against his shoulders and he swallowed hard, reminding himself to stay focused on what he’d come here for. She was trying to distract him and curse his kilts, it was working.

“You are wrong if you think I care even the slightest bit about your brats,” she said. “And you are badly mistaken if you think I will help you.”

“Then what _do_ you want?” he pleaded. She had the upper hand here and they both knew it. He followed her with his eyes as she continued to pace about him. Her black dress brushed against his legs. 

Magica’s eyes were alight with malice when she stopped before him. “Since you and I both know you would never surrender your number one dime, not permanently...another agreement must be reached, yes? Something perhaps more...mutually satisfying?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re going on about,” he informed her, but his heart raced and he very much knew exactly what she had in mind. Judging by her smirk, she knew that he knew.

“Call it a date. I will decide the place and the time and I will decide exactly what goes on during it,” she said, sounding ominous. Her threats weren’t doing much to decrease his interest, sadly. He had a type.

“But you’ll repair the mirror?” he asked, desperate to get the conversation back on track. 

Magica chortled. “Ah, yes, but I never said when.”

Then, waving her hand, she flung him bodily back toward the helicopter where Launchpad was waiting. She was at least gracious enough to let him down onto the ground rather than slam him into the bulkhead. He supposed he ought to be grateful, but he wasn’t. Rather, he cursed up a storm, pacing and slamming his cane into the ground for good measure. Launchpad watched warily.

“What happened, Mister McD?” he asked.

“Never let a sorceress see she has the upper hand,” Scrooge said and sighed. “If only I knew someone else with magic, then I wouldn’t be in this forsaken mess.”

While he hadn’t chanced another glance at the mirror before departing, he had to assume the worst, that the mirror was damaged beyond normal repair. Poor Webbigail would be trapped in there whenever and if-ever Magica decided to assist. Oh, he was in for it, well and truly. 

He wondered if, perhaps, Della would’ve had better luck. Magica had always seemed to have, if not a soft spot, at least a neutral spot for his missing niece.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby 2/1987 Webby learns the hard way that the alternate universe isn't better at everything. Also, Lena makes an appearance of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited after a series of comments on both here and ff.net. Hopefully, this is improved now. 
> 
> I'm not having a very good week in general. >.>

“You can’t stay here,” Dewey objected and Webby huffed at him.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Granny, for one thing,” Webby 1 said. “She’ll miss you. For another, it’s your universe.”

She glanced at the boys for assistance.

“You belong there,” Huey said. “I mean, we don’t know when the mirror will let you back into your world, so you’re obviously staying the night, but you can’t stay here longer than that. I don’t know what happens when people from alternate dimensions don’t return to their dimensions.”

Webby frowned. Huey was right in that her grandmother would miss her. The triplets should be feeling uneasy about now too, not that she felt sorry for them. And Uncle Scrooge might be worrying about her whereabouts too.

“Can’t I stay for a couple days?” she wheedled. “Then I’ll go back. I promise.”

“We should send word to the other universe if she’s not coming back right away,” Webby 1 mused.

“She could tell us so much as long as no one has to worry about whether she’s okay,” Huey agreed.

“We could check the mirror now and see if it’s working,” Webby 1 suggested, jumping to her feet. Her movements were lithe and Webby envied her. They trooped out and back toward the archive room. Once there, Webby 1 poked her hand at the mirror.

“Does it open the same time every day?” Huey mused.

“I don’t know…” Webby 1 admitted. She poked the mirror again with her fingertip and then pushed her palm against it. It went through and Webby exclaimed in surprise. Did it work more than once a day, then? Could she just nip in there, tell her granny she was okay, and come back out?

Webby 1 sunk her arm up to her elbow and then screamed, pulling it back in a hurry. The reflection changed, too, showing shattered glass and an empty room. Webby didn’t have time to wonder about that, though. Webby 1’s arm was lacerated, bleeding profusely, and she looked like she was stifling a pained sob. Huey immediately searched for something to bind her arm with.

“I’ll be okay…” Webby 1 said and then whimpered. She looked at the younger Webby. “You can’t go through. If it did this to me and I only put my arm through…”

“The mirror’s broken?” Webby exclaimed.

“Sure looks that way,” Louie commented and frowned, whipping off his hoodie. Underneath, he was wearing a green t-shirt. He handed the hoodie to his older brother to use as a bandage. Huey gave him a questioning look and Louie shrugged.

Huey wasted no time ripping it up into strips to bind her arm and Webby 1 held up her arm. To their credit, the boys didn't hyperventilate, although Webby sensed they were close to it. Then again, this was a pretty serious injury. So maybe the fact that they kept looking at each other and then Webby 1 was telling in and of itself. 

“Wait, wait…” Webby 1 pleaded. “Guys, I think there’s glass embedded in my arm. We need to find Granny.”

Webby feared she was right. Besides the fact she was dripping blood onto the floor, her arm glittered in a telltale way, revealing the shards of glass. Webby winced. That had to be excruciating, yet she was holding it together. She used Louie’s sweatshirt to help stem the blood, but it pressed the shards in deeper. 

Webby knew several curse words that probably would've appropriate here, things she'd heard Scrooge and Launchpad say, but she'd never repeat them. The boys were trying various things right now to help Webby 1, none of which were working. Louie was moving the sweatshirt and Webby 1 yelped in pain.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, wincing in apology and then nearly yanked it out of her grip entirely. Webby 1 had to fight to get it back, which was difficult considering she only had one good arm. Tears welled in her eyes and she was fighting sobs. Meanwhile, Huey had the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook open and was trying to find the page on treating glass injuries. Considering that her Huey's JWG probably had everything under the sun, she wasn't surprised to discover that Huey's did too. However, he kept flipping past it in his anxiety. He opened the book again, closed it, hissed, and nearly tore a page in his haste to find it. He was muttering what passed for curses among them; she guessed even in his agitated state, he didn't want to get in further trouble by cursing. 

And Dewey? Dewey looked like he was torn between bolting and fussing over Webby some more. He kept glancing around the room as if the mirror would tell him what to do. 

“We should go to get Mrs. Beakley,” Dewey said. “Stay right there.”

He took off in a hurry and tripped over himself, sprawling out on the floor. Gasping and shooting Webby 1 an anxious look, he raced off to find Mrs. Beakley. Webby turned. Her counterpart had tears in her eyes but didn’t shed them. The other two brothers were examining her arm and Huey had pulled out a cell phone to shine the flash onto her arm.

“I’d need a set of tweezers,” Huey said, glancing at the JWG in his hands. He'd finally managed to hit on the right page without closing the book...up until he shut it again. "Darn it. All right, I think I've got it."

His hands were shaking and he dropped it. Feeling superfluous and yet like this was her fault, Webby 2 scooped up the book and returned it to him. He thanked her just before dropping the book again. Webby 1 rolled her eyes, although Webby 2 had the sense her normal reaction was subdued by the pain in her arm and the tenseness of the situation. 

“On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?” He'd gotten the book open yet again and this time it was on a pain scale. It wasn't quite what they'd wanted, but it was close enough, for now, she guessed. The little faces on the page looked grotesque and Webby 2 winced in sympathy for the agony etched on smiley number ten, which looked like it was suffering a mortal wound below its face. 

“About a seven or an eight…” Webby 1 said, gritting her teeth and then grinding them in pain. Webby 2 was proud of her for not crying; she must've had a high pain threshold. Then again, if she'd been trained as a fighter, she was probably used to pain to a certain extent. “If I take away this hoodie, I’ll bleed all over the floor, but it won’t hurt as much. Plus, Louie, you’re never going to be able to get the blood out.”

“It’s fine,” Louie said. His expression was pinched and he touched her good shoulder. His hand lingered on her, Webby noticed. She also noticed he was squeezing a bit too hard; both Louie and Webby 1 flinched and he released her. She was gasping in pain now and Webby 2 wondered where Dewey had gotten off to. Or whether he'd run into something in his agitation. 

“Webs…” Louie started cautiously and she shook her head. She had gritted her teeth against the agony that had to be sharp and abrasive in her arm.

“Should I get tweezers?” Huey asked and Webby 1 again shook her head. This time, she was helpless to stop the tears trickling down her cheeks and Louie stepped closer to her as if he could somehow protect her. Huey, who had grabbed his phone in an attempt to find the glass with additional light, dropped it when he saw Mrs. Beakley and his brother return.  As a consequence, he nearly blinded them.

“Give me that,” Mrs. Beakley said, all business. She was more muscular than Webby’s grandmother and much more in control. In her hands, she held a pair of tweezers. Despite the forcefulness of her bearing, Webby glimpsed genuine apprehension and anxiety in her eyes.

“Webbigail Vanderquack, what have you been doing?” she asked, her tone gentle.

“It’s my fault,” Webby blurted out, causing Mrs. Beakley to turn and look at her. She hadn’t noticed her before and Webby squirmed, hugging her dolly tight to her chest. It was like a security blanket and Webby was loath to throw it away, despite the fact that this Webby had. (That was kind of impressive, too).

“I wanted to stay here for a while, so she was going to go through the mirror into my dimension to tell my granny so she wouldn’t worry, but when she put her arm through…”

“Granny, I know you’re mad at me, but could you be upset <i>and</i> pull the glass out?” Webby 1 gasped. Tears streaked her cheeks and she was whimpering, swaying on her feet a little. Was the glass holding the blood in? Webby 2 thought she remembered hearing something like that, but it'd been said when the adults thought she wasn't listening.

Mrs. Beakley surveyed Webby 2 for a minute more before setting to work. She ordered one of the boys to hold Webby 1’s arm steady so she could extract the glass. Of course, that assumed that the boys could hold her arm steady. They couldn't. They were freaking out, whimpering and offering apologies for something that wasn't their fault. Meanwhile, Webby 2 was silent, guilt swamping her. It took all three of them to hold Webby long enough for Mrs. Beakley to extract the glass shards. By the time it was done, Webby 1’s feathers were soaked in blood and the girl rocked on her feet.

The mirror looked untouched, despite the number it’d done on her. Webby 2 shot it a dirty look. 

“I’ll take your hoodie for now,” Mrs. Beakley informed Louie and bound up Webby 1’s wounds. Huey guided Webby 1 to a crate to sit down, which she did thankfully. She didn’t lower herself so much as collapse onto it and Huey grabbed the one nearby to prevent her from falling over. He sat beside her and held her hand. He was still gibbering something about the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook while Dewey came over to ramble about something equally insignificant. Louie, who might've been cold, hugged himself. 

“Now, would someone care to explain what’s going on here?” Mrs. Beakley said.

Webby gave the concise version and when she was finished, Mrs. Beakley’s lips pulled into a tighter line. She was much more severe than the granny Webby knew and loved. Then again, this Mrs. Beakley had produced that Webby. So maybe there was something to be said for her parenting style.

By the time she'd blurted out all of it, she was crying too, harder than the other Webby despite her injury. The other Webby, Webby 1, was hardcore. 

“I’m sorry,” Webby finished. “I never meant for her to get hurt.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mrs. Beakley told her and glanced between the two Webbigails. Webby 1 was leaning heavily on Huey now and Mrs. Beakley sighed.

“I’ll take her up to her room,” she said. She frowned. “You and I need to have a discussion, young lady.”

“Yes, Grammy,” Webby said, lowering her head.

They disappeared, leaving Webby 2 with Dewey and Louie. After a few seconds, Louie decided to follow Mrs. Beakley, Webby 1, and Huey, which meant Webby was alone with Dewey.

“You’re not worried about her?” Webby asked.

"Duh, of course, I am," he said. "I mean, you saw her arm.  But Mrs. Beakley wouldn't appreciate all of us crowding her and besides..." He glanced at the mirror frame. “The whole thing’s so weird. You didn’t get cut up when you came to see us earlier. And the mirror’s shimmering.”

His voice was shaking, despite his words, and Webby 2 hugged him. He didn't hug her back; his gaze was hooked onto where the others had gone. 

He approached it, brushing his fingertips along it, but didn’t attempt to cross the way Webby 1 had. After thirty seconds, he withdrew his hand. 

“It’s not broken on this side,” he said. “But I can feel the gritty residue on the other. It’s gotta be broken on your side.”

He said this in something of a panic, doubtlessly thinking of what had just transpired. He still looked like he wanted to flee and she released him in case he was about to bolt and find Webby 1. 

Webby’s frown deepened. While she had wanted to stay, she could see the sense in letting her grandmother and Uncle Scrooge know where she was. That didn’t appear to be an option anymore. She probably wouldn’t be able to transport herself through the mirror without bleeding to death. That was an unnerving thought.

 

Webby’s lower beak quivered. She hadn’t meant to cause trouble. Moreover, the sight of Webby 1’s arm like that made her sick to her stomach. Before Dewey had a chance to object or stop her, she darted from the archive room toward her counterpart’s room. Dewey was right behind her and although he kept calling for her to slow down, he wasn’t trying very hard to prevent her egress. Then again, he'd probably been headed in the same direction. 

Webby 1 was lying curled up on her side with the hoodie beneath her. Louie’s expression was almost tender as he looked at her and again, Webby had the sense she was intruding. Huey was reading something from the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook about treating wounds (he'd managed to keep the book open this time, despite his trembling hands) and Mrs. Beakley was frowning even deeper, which made Webby step back into the doorway and bump into the door. Oh, she hated when the adults were upset with her.

“You don’t think she’ll need stitches, do you?” Huey asked in an undertone. Dewey moved past Webby and approached the bed. The other boys nodded at him and he inclined his head back. Webby 1 wasn’t conscious and her breathing was shallow.

“She should be okay after some rest,” Mrs. Beakley said and smoothed back her granddaughter’s hair. She kissed her on the forehead and turned toward Webby, who froze like a deer in the headlights.

“Now, young lady, I believe it’s time for that little chat,” she said. “I’ll see if I can stir up some tea and biscuits to go with it.”

 

\----

Once Webby 1 was sleeping, Mrs. Beakley brought Webby to a private room where the young duckling squirmed. She didn’t recognize the room but then again, everything in this mansion looked so much different. She waited while the other version of her grandmother poured the tea and, hand shaking, took the cup.

“You’re far from home, young lady,” Mrs. Beakley said stiffly.

“I didn’t mean to!” Webby burst out.

“Other people are perfectly capable of making mistakes too. You needn’t blame yourself for what happened,” she said. “Although I’m quite certain your grandmother must be worried about you on the other side.”

Webby nodded. “But it looks like I can’t go back…”

“I’m sure they’ll repair the mirror shortly,” she said. Webby dropped her gaze. They’d probably have to enlist Magica de Spell’s help. Despite what Mrs. Beakley had said, she felt responsible. But she was still a little glad she’d gone through anyway.

“Your Webby’s so neat,” she said, sipping her tea. “She can do all this fighting stuff and she’s not scared of anything.”

Not to mention she'd gotten her arm torn up and hadn't howled in pain the way Webby 2 would've. Webby 1 could handle it. 

“I wouldn’t know about that. Everyone’s frightened of something.”

Mrs. Beakley scanned her. “I take it your grandmother hasn’t instilled in you defensive and offensive skills yet? Perhaps she thinks you’re too young.”

“My grammy doesn’t know any,” she said.

“A version of me who isn’t a spy,” she mused. “Huh.”

She sounded obscurely disappointed. Webby racked her brains trying to come up with something that would impress her, but everything she’d seen here seemed superior to her own world. The boys had their own personalities and voices, her counterpart could fight, Mrs. Beakley was apparently a spy here, Webby’s shadow wasn’t really hers...and she wasn’t marrying Doofus.

“You can stay with my Webby until we figure out how to contact someone on the other side to repair the mirror,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Assuming they haven’t already done so.”

“They’d have to talk to Magica,” Webby said. Mrs. Beakley stiffened and, surprised, Webby looked up. The woman’s beak was clenched and something about the way she was holding herself put Webby on edge.

“And your Scrooge and Magica are friends?” Mrs. Beakley asked carefully.

“Oh, no. She hates him,” Webby said earnestly. “But she’s the only one who has magic.”

“I see,” Mrs. Beakley said stiffly. “I should hope that we don’t need to consult our version of Magica. She’s done enough damage around here to last a lifetime, not to mention she would need her powers restored.”

“Why? What happened to her powers?” she asked.

“That is a tale for another time. It’s getting late and you should be getting to bed,” she said.

“Yes, Grammy,” she said and Mrs. Beakley seemed to suppress a sigh. She guided her back toward her room and huffed when she saw that Louie was there too.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I was just checking on her,” Louie said, a tad defensively.

“Go to bed,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Now.”

“I’m going,” he said. “Good night.”

He cast one last look back at Webby 1 and Webby felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of jealousy. None of the triplets ever looked at her like that. They never looked at her like she was family. It wasn’t fair.

“I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything,” Mrs. Beakley promised. She had secured a sleeping bag and prepped it for Webby, who crawled into it and glanced up. Louie was lingering and Mrs. Beakley shooed him away. The green-clad triplet shrugged and walked off.

Webby closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It was difficult when guilt swamped her. It was also difficult because, with the dim light the moon cast into Webby 1’s room, Webby 1’s shadow was moving. It appeared to be trying to talk, but no sound came out. The oddest thing was that it wasn’t shaped like Webby, but like an older duck Webby didn’t recognize. Seemingly frustrated, the shadow pointed at Webby 1 and then back at her as if to ask who she thought she was coming in here like this.

“I don’t think I should talk to shadows…” Webby demurred.

“Ugh, why do I bother…” a weak voice muttered. “The person I really want to talk to is down for the count.”

In her sleep, Webby 1 fingered a friendship bracelet around her wrist. The shadow’s expression grew pained.

“Sssh, Webby, I’m here…” the shadow soothed. Webby 1 must’ve been having a nightmare because her chest heaved up and down like she was suppressing tears.

“Wake up and talk to me…” the shadow pleaded. “I didn’t leave you. I’m still here. Webby…”

“Who are you?” Webby asked. “What are you?”

“My name is Lena and it’s a long story,” she said. “Argh, great, I can already feel my strength fading and all I wanted was to talk to her for five minutes. Give her a message for me, will you?

“Tell her that Lena has her back and that she’ll always be with her. Okay? Can you remember that? Man, you look so girly. Just tell her that.”

The shadow dispersed, replaced by Webby 1’s own shadow. For some reason Webby didn’t quite understand, her chest heaved up and down too like she wanted to cry. Who or what was a Lena?

She’d tell her in the morning. Webby was just going to close her eyes for five minutes and recite the speech back to herself...she’d remember it...she would…

She fell asleep and by the time she woke up, she had a lot worse troubles than Lena's speech.  
\---

Doofus Drake stood outside McDuck Manor and inhaled. He could smell the triplets, as well as their friend, Webby. There was, however, another scent on the air, a more lavender and sage aroma that intrigued him. He ordered his parents to carry him up the steep roof and he poked his head into Webby’s room. Normally, there would be a security system that ought to have ejected him, but he supposed they'd had more important things on their mind, like defeating Magica. (The whole city knew about that). If Magica had blown through their defenses, then it was all to the good for Doofus. He wasn't going to complain or bring it to Scrooge's attention.

She was curled up on her side with a strange shadow hanging over her. She wasn’t the source of the scent, though.

A younger duckling, likewise curled into a ball, with a pretty pink bow and a pink dress, was lying on a sleeping mat on the floor. Intrigued, Doofus climbed through the window, landed hard on his stomach, and looked up to see whether the girls had roused. They hadn’t. He pushed himself to his feet and stared at the younger duckling. Something about her drew him to her and he leaned in close to inhale her scent.

The younger duckling whimpered in her sleep and he stroked her feathers. She was adorable. Too adorable. He had to have her. And, after all, no one said no to Doofus Drake.

He scooped her up into his arms and headed back for the window. It was difficult to move with her in his arms and he handed her to his parents as soon as he climbed out.

“We’re taking her,” he announced.

“But, Doofus, she’s a person,” his mother protested. “You can’t just kidnap a person.”

“I can do whatever I want,” Doofus snapped. “And I want her, so I’m taking her.”

“But, someone will know she’s missing,” his mother pressed. “They’re bound to look for her. You can’t...you can’t just waltz in there and abduct someone, Doofus.”

“I’m not paying you to reprimand me!” he snapped. Come to think of it, he wasn’t paying them at all. Digging his hand into his pocket, he produced a wad of cash, which he threw into Webby’s room. It landed beside her pillow and, if shadows could give dirty looks, he could’ve sworn hers did.

“There. I paid for her. Now everything is settled,” he said. “Let’s go.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1987 Magica breaks the bad news to Scrooge about rescuing Webby from the mirror world. (It later conspires that she's lying, because of course she is). 
> 
> Meanwhile, the 1987 boys attempt to send a message through the mirror and hear their counterparts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited the previous chapter, so hopefully, it's better? I don't know. 
> 
> Normally I'd add something pithy about the chapter, but nothing is coming to mind. It's not been a good week.

Scrooge McDuck paced his office for the hundredth time. Magica had no phone, of course, living all the way out on Mount Vesuvius. Unless Scrooge wanted to fly out there again and risk her toying with him, he had no way to contact her. She was taking her sweet time about reappearing in Duckberg.  
  
The longer Webby lingered in the alternate universe, the more Scrooge worried about her. It was possible that she’d landed in an alternate version of this mansion and that version of him was looking after her. It was possible everything was all right and he was fretting over nothing. After all, wee little Webbigail had gotten herself into worse scrapes than this and come out all right. Perhaps he was underestimating her.  
  
It was the uncertainty that was driving him mad. The triplets were morose, sitting in his office and watching him pace. They were worried too, although their anxiety was augmented by guilt. They’d stopped trying to fix the mirror or attempting to help in any way.  
  
Argh, this was ridiculous. He’d have to fetch Magica and drag her back here. Of course, there was the fact that sorceresses rarely agreed to allow someone to take them anywhere. But if he was waiting on Magica’s pleasure, it could be months before she kited over here. Anything could happen to Webbigail in months. His stomach clenched and he was sick thinking about losing her for so long. No, he had to have her back, if not just for him, then for everyone who cared about her. An unstoppable force would meet an immovable object--she’d have to come along or be swept away.  
  
“Wanna go for a trip, boys?” he said, stopping in the middle of his pace.  
  
“We’re going to Mount Vesuvius, aren’t we, Unca?” Huey said and Scrooge sighed.  
  
“Aye, I’m afraid so, lad,” he said. “Magica could spite us and work on her schedule, not ours. I can’t take the idea of Webby gone for that long.”  
  
“You’re not going to offer your number one dime, are you?” Dewey asked.  
  
“I haven’t decided what I’m doing,” he said. He’d have a better idea once he got there. In the meanwhile, he needed to call Launchpad for a lift, if the man wasn’t off crashing another plane. He rolled his eyes at that and grabbed the phone to call him.  
  
Before, the boys had questioned whether Webby was worth his number one dime. Now they didn’t question it. They stared, downcast, and he reached out to ruffle their head feathers.  
  
“Don’t mistake it, boys--I’m still very mad at you, but you’re taking this a bit hard,” he said.  
  
“We could’ve...we could’ve gotten her killed!” Louie burst out. The other two nodded.  
  
Scrooge held up a finger to prevent them from going on and quickly told Launchpad what he needed. He hung up and looked over at the boys, who were genuinely distressed now. They were all talking at once and making it very difficult for him to follow who was saying what. It didn’t help that their voices sounded identical.  
  
“Lads, lads!” he implored. “I can’t understand you when you all talk at once.”  
  
They desisted, though he was disconcerted to see tears glimmering in their eyes. They were taking this hard. Then again, this might’ve been the worst thing they’d ever done, albeit unintentionally. He drew them closer.  
  
“We don’t know what happened to her,” he said. “We can’t afford to think of the worst case scenario. It’ll only upset you more. We have to assume that she’s safe, scared, and waiting to be rescued. We can’t imagine anything else because we can’t do anything about it yet.”  
  
“We didn’t mean to send her through the mirror!” Dewey burst out and tears slipped down his cheeks. The other two burst into tears as well.  
  
“Boys, boys. We’re gonna get her back,” he promised. “One way or another, even if we have to go through the mirror ourselves, we’re bringing Webbigail back. Now, c’mon. We have an appointment with Launchpad to visit Magica again at Mount Vesuvius.”  
  
They were good lads, really they were. They’d made a terrible mistake, but it’d be all right in the end. Scrooge refused to think of any alternate outcome.  
  
They climbed into the Sunchaser and Launchpad took off. The mood was grim again, though the boys had stopped crying. They looked morose and he did his best to comfort them, all the while aware that their concerns might be valid. He wouldn’t let himself think of poor Webbigail in distress, but it was hard not to. Now that the boys had brought it up again, it was all he could think of.  
  
As a result, despite Launchpad’s attempts to stir conversation, it was a silent ride. Launchpad skidded onto the landing pad and scratched up the Sunchaser’s underside, which for him was minor. He hadn’t broken anything that would leave them stranded, which was good because Scrooge intended to give Magica a piece of his mind and he didn’t want the effect ruined by being stuck here. That and it would be very difficult to persuade her to accompany them if they couldn’t actually leave the island.  
  
Again, Poe circled above them as they ascended the stairs to Magica’s throne room and he perched on her chair arm when they reached her. She was where he’d left her and was leafing through a thick dusty tome. She didn’t look up when they entered. Instead, her focus seemed on the book, as if she didn’t even hear them.  
  
Scrooge cleared his throat. She remained fixated on the book and flipped a page.  
  
“Magica!” he snapped and her gaze flicked to him and then back. She looked disinterested, although her gaze lingered contemptuously on the triplets before returning to study the book.  
  
“If you wanted a date, you could’ve just asked,” she murmured. “You didn’t have to bring your grand-nephews.”  
  
“You said you’d help me with the mirror!” he snapped. “Do I have to drag you out of here?”  
  
“I _am_  helping you with mirror,” she snapped back and looked up. Her eyes were red like she hadn’t slept well in the past day. “What do you think this is? Light reading?”  
  
“I thought you knew how to fix it,” he said, his irritation fading. He stepped closer to her and the boys stopped, watching them curiously. Again, Magica’s gaze flicked to them and then settled on him.  
  
“Contrary to what you think, Scroogie, I do not know everything there is about magic,” she snapped. “And I have never repaired a broken magical mirror because there has never been a broken magical mirror before this.”  
  
“How long do you think it’ll take?” he asked.  
  
“It takes however long it takes,” she growled. She glowered at him. “I will rescue your pitiful Webster from the mirror. Do not worry.”  
  
“Webbigail,” he corrected.  
  
“Whatever,” she said. “The pink one. I’ll rescue her. But I will do it on my timeline, not yours. You owe me a big favor after this, McDuck, and don’t think I’ll let you forget it.”  
  
“But something terrible could be happening to her!” he protested and the boys agreed. Magica rose from her seat, slammed the book down, and stormed over to him. Her eyes flashed in warning. It occurred to him that perhaps ticking off the one person who could help them might’ve been a poor decision.  
  
“I am doing this for you,” she reminded him. “Not for the brat. I am doing this because I would hate for something to turn you into a pitiful, pathetic shell of a duck and not my worthy adversary.”  
  
There seemed to be something else she wasn’t saying and her gaze again darted to the boys before locking onto him.  
  
“Go wait in the Sunchaser,” he said to them.  
  
“Aw, but Unca Scrooge!” they protested in unison.  
  
“Go!” he said and they trooped off, heads down. He watched them until he knew they were out of earshot and then turned to Magica.  
  
“What don’t you wanna say in front of the boys?” he said in an undertone.  
  
“As I say, magic mirror is the first broken mirror I have encountered,” she said, matching his tone. “I am reading up on the construction of magic mirrors, but the steps are complicated and the materials scarce.”  
  
She met his gaze.  
  
“I do this out of respect for you. But if this does not work, there is nothing I can do.”  
  
The pronouncement fell heavy between them. Magica, for once in her life, looked somber. He thought she might actually feel bad about this, which was a first.  
  
“What are the odds of it working?” he asked past the lump in his throat.  
  
“50/50, I am thinking,” she said. “If the mirror is not broken on the other side, it is more like 60/40. Travel between two broken mirrors is impossible. Travel through one broken mirror is possible, but…”  
  
“But what?” he demanded.  
  
“Chances are 20/80 you will survive,” she said. “Greater chance is of dying in transit. Chances are worse if you take someone with you. This is suicidal, Scrooge.”  
  
“I can’t just leave her stranded!” he objected.  
  
Magica shrugged. “I am only telling you the odds. You are a betting man, yes? Would you take those odds?”  
  
“Do I have a choice?” he retorted. “I can’t leave her alone to die!”  
  
Magica touched his face and it was surprisingly gentle.  
  
“I can’t lose her! Not like…”  
  
“Della.”  
  
The name fell between them and Scrooge flinched. Magica smiled sadly.  
  
“I know,” she said. “I will do my best to fix mirror. But if I do not succeed, then you need to know what to expect.”  
  
“Thank you,” he said and it felt like he’d swallowed his pride to say it. She nodded, cupping his chin in her palm. Her gaze lingered on him in a meaningful way. His heart thudded.  
  
“I will be in touch,” she told him and then she released him. “I will return to Duckberg when and only when I have something. In the meantime, there is nothing I can do. Do not come here again.”  
  
Though her voice was mild, the implication was clear. He was intruding on her territory. He nodded, stepping back, and she scanned him.  
  
“I hope, for your sake, that she can be found,” she said.  
  
As he was walking away, he realized she hadn’t added: “alive”. Head down, he trudged back to the Sunchaser. Somehow, Magica’s doubts about Webby’s well-being hurt worse than the boys’ did.

* * *

  
“So, if we can’t repair the mirror ourselves and we can’t bring Webby back, what can we do?” Huey asked. They were pacing their room in an unconscious imitation of Scrooge. “We can’t just sit around doing nothing.”  
  
“Wonder what Magica had to tell Unca Scrooge,” Dewey said. “He wouldn’t tell us on the ride back. But he looked upset.”  
  
“You don’t think she backed out, do you?” Louie asked and the other two answered in unison, “Nah.”  
  
Then Huey voiced the thought that had started in Louie’s mind. “She couldn’t have, could she? She was using that book to help fix the mirror. She wouldn’t have done that if she wasn’t going to help.”  
  
“Then what did she have to tell Unca Scrooge that we couldn’t hear?” Huey protested.  
  
“Probably some gross girl stuff,” Louie said, though they remained unconvinced. If Scrooge wouldn’t tell them, they certainly couldn’t return to Vesuvius and ask her themselves. They were stymied for the time being.  
  
“You know, maybe we oughta try being nicer to Webby when she comes back,” Dewey suggested. “We’ve been kinda mean to her for a while now. She can’t help being a girl.”  
  
“Yeah…” the other two echoed.  
  
“And she could’ve been hurt or worse in that other universe. When she comes back, we’ve gotta apologize to her,” Dewey added. “And maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to chase her off or scare her.”  
  
“Yeah…” the other two echoed.  
  
“You think there’s a way to get a message through the mirror, even if it’s broken?” Dewey said. “We could send her a note and apologize. We should write it now.”  
  
Huey and Louie nodded and they set to work finding paper and pencil to write their note. After much deliberation, they decided to start with the apology and then add how much everyone missed and loved her. Even the boys, who weren’t always fond of her, missed her. She could be a real sweetheart and they were sorry, again, for forcing her into the mirror by proxy.  
  
Unfortunately, getting the note in was harder than they’d thought. Duckworth was standing guard by the archive room to prevent them from messing with the mirror, as they’d already done enough damage.  
  
“Can’t we just send the note?” Dewey pleaded. “We won’t touch the mirror. We won’t go through it. We promise. Please, Duckworth.”  
  
“Very well,” he sniffed and permitted them access. As they entered, they stared at the shattered glass, lying on the floor and still in the mirror frame. They felt dreadful, completely wretched. What if Webby had been on her way back through the mirror when they’d shattered it? What if she was lying somewhere, shattered too?  
  
“Webby, we’re sorry!” the triplets cried in unison. “We’re so, so sorry! Please come back home!”  
  
They pushed the note through the note through the mirror and waited with bated breath.  
  
“Hello?” another voice answered and they startled.  
  
“Hello?” the triplets chorused.  
  
“She was right,” a male voice said. “They do speak in unison.”  
  
“How do you know? I mean, we can’t see anyone.”  
  
“Maybe it’s not us. Maybe it’s just some random bunch of kids on the other side.”  
  
“Identify yourselves!” the first voice commanded.  
  
“We’re Huey, Dewey, and Louie,” Huey answered and heard, from three different boys, a group groan.  
  
“Hey, stop that!” the other side of the mirror snapped, also in unison. “Argh, not again! Twice in one day? This is ridiculous! STOP! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Seriously, guys?”  
  
“Man, I hate when we do that,” the second boy complained. “It’s like we get stuck in some weird loop.”  
  
“We’re a giant feedback loop,” a third voice said. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Dewey Dew-night?”  
  
“Webby said she wouldn’t tell!” the second boy said, scandalized.  
  
“She didn’t,” the third boy assured him. “I found your set. Man, you really need to change the combination on that lock.”  
  
“No one gave you permission to go through my stuff,  _Llewellyn,_ ” the second boy snapped.  
  
“That’s a low blow,  _Dewford,_ ” the third boy said. “Why did you have to say my full name? I hate my full name.”  
  
“Guys, guys, knock it off,” the first boy protested.  
  
“Are you...us?” Louie ventured and the other two stepped up to the glass without touching it.  
  
“You mean do we all speak in unison with the same voice and wear matching outfits? No. We don’t. What are you guys, six?” snapped Llewellyn (who would've hated being referred to by that).   
  
“How do you know what we’re wearing?” Louie protested.  
  
“I don’t. But you sound like you’re wearing the same outfits,” came the response. They couldn’t see anything but broken images through the glass and the shards were too small to provide any semblance of a full picture.  
  
“Look,” said the first voice, assuming command again. “You’re probably here because you’re worried about Webby, your Webby, right?”  
  
“Yeah…” they chorused.  
  
“Could you not do that?” Llewellyn groused. “Ugh, it’s so embarrassing. It’s like you’re a hive mind.”  
  
“She’s okay,” the first voice said. “We just have a little situation. But we’ll fix it.”  
  
“What kind of situation?” Dewey asked, suspicious.  
  
“A Doofus Drake incident,” said Dewford. “Uh-oh. Guys, I think Uncle Scrooge is coming this way.”  
  
“What was your first clue? The door opening or the fact that he’s standing there, glowering at us?” Llewellyn snapped.  
  
“When you see Webby, give her this,” Louie said and pressed the note through the mirror. He had to be careful how he did it, since he didn't want to end up with glass shards in his hand.   
  
“Confetti,” said Llewellyn, sarcastic. “So impressive.”  
  
“Didn’t I tell you not to go in here, especially after what happened to Webby?” Scrooge said. “C’mon.”  
  
“Wait!” Louie pleaded. “Where’s our Webby?”  
  
“She’s a little...tied up at the moment,” Dewford said, reluctantly. “Nothing we can’t handle.”  
  
“Or that Webby can’t handle,” Llewellyn muttered.  
  
“Out!” Scrooge bellowed and the connection, whatever was creating it, seemed to fade away. The triplets sighed.  
  
“Least we know she’s alive,” Dewey said.  
  
“Yeah, and that’s all we know,” Huey pointed out.  
  
“Better than what we knew before,” Dewey countered.  
  
But not really by much.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby 1 spearheads the rescue effort and gets hurt in a moment of distraction.
> 
> Film at 11.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hah ha ha. My anti-anxiety medication is giving me nightmares and insomnia. That's funny, right? I sure do love being up at 5:30 in the morning. Oh boy.
> 
> Here are the original author's notes that were in this chapter:
> 
> The computer ate my chapter. (“A sea monster ate my ice cream!” *dies*) I needed to edit it and repair what was missing from it, which included an entire scene. 
> 
> I also added some clarification regarding the alarm system and additional information elsewhere.

Webbigail Vanderquack awoke disoriented. This wasn’t her normal, comfortable bed and her Grammy wasn’t the one waking her. Confused, she turned over and opened her eyes. Doofus Drake stood in front of her; he was thinner and his gaze, normally clouded over with the thought of whatever sweet he wanted next, was keen. Webby blinked and yesterday crashed over her. The mirror, the transportation to this alternate universe, and now this strange Doofus Drake staring at her. Her heart pounded, and she inched backward.  
  
“Hi…” she said. “Where are the boys and the other Webby?”  
  
“I watched you sleep,” Doofus informed her. Webby blinked, unnerved.  
  
“And I smelled your hair while you slept,” he added. “You smell different from the Webby I know.”  
  
Webby was seized by a sudden urge to run for the hills and not look back. This Doofus was nothing like the innocuous Doofus that had befriended the triplets. For one thing, he was creepy. Who watched someone while they slept? And then smelled their hair?  
  
“I like you, new friend,” Doofus said. “I’ve already given you a friendship bracelet.”  
  
Webby looked down to find a golden bracelet around her wrist. She offered Doofus a weak smile.  
  
“Thank you,” she said, because that seemed the proper response. “But where are the others?”  
  
“What others?” Doofus returned. He perched in front of her and smiled. “There are no others. You’re my new and only friend. And I’m keeping you.”  
  
What was that supposed to mean? Webby’s heartrate kicked up another notch and she smiled weakly at him. She tugged at the friendship bracelet, meaning to give it back, but it was stuck to her wrist. Perplexed and growing alarmed, she tugged harder.  
  
“It won’t come off,” Doofus said. “It also doubles as a manacle that keeps anyone from leaving me. It didn’t work with Louie, but it’ll work fine for you. I’ve fixed it. And besides, you’re way better than Louie, who lied to me about not having brothers. You’re pretty and a girl.”  
  
Okay, she was pretty close to freaking out now. She could’ve used the other Webby to kick this boy’s butt. Normally, she didn’t advocate that type of violence, but she doubted this Doofus would get the message otherwise. It was a shame, because the Doofus she knew was a walking fat joke but otherwise innocent. This Doofus was terrifying.  
  
“Yes, I am a girl…” she agreed. “But didn’t your parents tell you not to kidnap someone? It’s rude.”  
  
“My parents do what I tell them,” Doofus said, leaning in and sniffing her hair. “And I told them to abduct you.”  
  
Webby yanked so hard on the bracelet that she thought she was going to pull her arm out of its socket. She could taste her heartbeat in her mouth and felt it pounding in her throat. It looked like Doofus was right. This bracelet/manacle was not coming off.  
  
“Could you please return to me to McDuck Manor?” she asked politely, hoping there might be a chance she could reason with him. “I’m not from around here, I’m from another dimension, and I’d really like to go home now.”  
  
Or at least back to the security of normal, non-creepy people. She couldn’t picture one of the triplets sniffing her hair or watching her while she slept. She pushed herself to her feet and glanced around; it appeared she was in Doofus’s bedroom, which was another level of creepy she didn’t want to think about.  
  
He had pictures of himself around his room, along with a four-poster bed and every convenience and luxury. It dawned on her that he’d been watching her sleep in his bedroom. Webby let out a dismayed quack and floundered back, panic overwhelming her. She could’ve used that thing that Louie had, that cell phone, if she’d known any phone numbers offhand. Right now, she was drawing a blank.  
  
“That must be why I’ve never seen you before,” Doofus said. “Don’t worry. You’re in your new home now.”  
  
“No, I have to go home,” she pressed. “The mirror that I went through is in McDuck Manor and I have to go back there. Please?”  
  
“You’re in your new home now,” he repeated, his face turning hard. He snapped his fingers and a maid appeared. “Bring her some breakfast. We’ll be eating on the balcony.”  
  
“Doofus, she looks scared,” the maid ventured. “Maybe we should take her back.”  
  
“She belongs to me,” he hissed. “She’s mine. I’m not returning her.”  
  
“She belongs to her family,” she pressed. “You can’t keep people.”  
  
“Yes, I can!” he thundered and grabbed Webby’s arm. He squeezed it hard enough to hurt and she yelped in pain. His grip was bruising, and she attempted to pull away only for him to hold her tighter.  
  
“You’re not a very nice person!” she snapped at Doofus. “You can’t keep me, I’m a person and not a thing! Let me go or I’ll…I’ll…I won’t do anything you want me to do!”  
  
As far as threats went, that was terrible. She wouldn’t have been intimidated by it. Judging by the look he gave her, he wasn’t impressed either. She bit back another pained cry. Why couldn’t he let go of her?  
  
“You don’t have to do anything. As long as you stay here and never leave me.”  
  
It sounded like a threat, one far more imposing than hers. She quacked again, waving her free hand and slapping Doofus across the face. She put as much power behind the slap as possible in the hopes he’d release her. He did, out of shock, and she bolted, running past the maid and trying to find her way out of the mansion.  
  
It didn’t help that she’d never been over to Doofus’s house, in either universe, and she didn’t know where she was going. It also didn’t help that she could barely concentrate over her arm throbbing. She didn’t have to look at her arm to know it had black and blue marks now.  
  
There had to be an exit. He couldn’t keep her. Desperate, Webby skidded into the kitchen. A side door led to the outside and freedom. Webby wrenched at the door and her bracelet stuck fast, pinning her to the door. Hyperventilating now, she kicked and shoved at the door.  
  
“Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” she pleaded.  
  
“Fleeing somewhere?” Doofus called, and she screamed. Her bracelet was stuck fast to the doorknob as if it were magnetic. It might’ve been.  
  
“Let me out!” she pleaded with him. “I’ll be your friend if you want, but you can’t imprison me!”  
  
“I already paid for you. I gave the other Webby $20. That should cover it. Also, I didn’t like that you slapped me. You shouldn’t have done that, Webby.”  
  
“I’m sorry…” she said, although she wasn’t, not really. “I’ll stay, I promise, just take the bracelet off.”  
  
“I don’t think I can believe you. You’re not being a good friend. I’m going to have to punish you.”  
  
Webby shrieked, kicking at the door and punching it. Her wrist was stuck fast, and Doofus stepped closer to her, pinning her between him and the door. She swung with her free hand and he grabbed it. She was having a hard time drawing enough breath, but she managed to scream in the vain hopes that someone would come to her rescue. Perhaps the maid and the butler would take pity on her.  
  
“You don’t appreciate me. No one does,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “But you’ll have plenty of time to learn. You’re not going anywhere. Ever again.”  
  
“They’re going to notice I’m missing,” she said, hoping against hope that it might convince him.  
  
“They won’t know you’re here,” he said, pressing her closer against the door. He was entirely too close, close enough for his hot breath to hit her face. She kicked at him.  
  
“You’re nothing like my Doofus! You’re not a friend at all! You’re too mean!” she cried.  
  
“I’m going to leave you stuck to the door to let you think about what you’ve done,” he decided, stepping back and giving her breathing room. Webby’s eyes had filled with tears and she was hiccup crying. Her lower beak quivered, and she yanked pointlessly at the door.  
  
“It looks like you won’t need breakfast at all,” he said. “That’s a pity. I would’ve given anything you wanted.”  
  
He leaned in again and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be back.”  
  
Then, watching her struggle in vain to extricate herself, he left her alone in the kitchen. Webby gasped, choking on her sobs. She couldn’t reach the wall phone, which was across the room. She could only go as far as the bracelet and her arm reach allowed, which wasn’t more than a few feet.  
  
While part of her was appalled that he’d paid for her and thought that was okay, a small part of her was resentful that he thought he could buy her for $20. She was worth more than that.  
  
“Help!” she cried. “Anyone! Help me!”  
  
“You shouldn’t have made him angry,” the butler said and shook his head. “You won’t like him when he’s angry.”  
  
“I don’t like him  _now_. Why is he like this?”  
  
“No one ever says ‘no’ to Doofus Drake,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Then he proceeded to leave her too. She couldn’t extend herself to the utensils’ drawer, which might’ve had something sharp enough to cut off the bracelet. It would’ve injured her too, but at this point, Webby was too desperate to care. How could the butler and the maid be so heartless? The maid had argued in favor of releasing her, but not hard enough to make a difference.  
  
Webby screamed and then sobbed, wishing she could defend herself and attack as well as the other Webby. The other Webby would never have gotten herself into this mess.  
  
\----  
Webby awoke feeling cold air on her feathers and she frowned, rolling over. The window was open. She hadn’t left it open. Moreover, she’d thought that security would’ve sounded an alarm if anyone opened a window or door from the outside. Then again, Magica might’ve blazed through their security and destroyed it in her last attack. Webby wasn’t sure.  
  
Not that it mattered. Pinned to the floor was a $20 bill, which reminded her absurdly of Gladstone Gander. She glanced from the open window to the bill and then to the empty sleeping bag on the floor. Webby 2 was gone. Her stomach sank and she left the bill where it was (Louie would probably grab it later) to seek out the triplets. While she doubted they’d seen Webby 2 either, it was a good place to start.  
  
The triplets were half awake when she knocked on their door. Huey answered, being the most alert of the three, and blinked sleep out of his eyes.  
  
“Webby?” he said. “What is it? It’s 7 a.m.”  
  
“Have you seen the other Webby?” she burst out, impatient.  
  
“How could we have seen anything?” Louie replied, still slumped in his bunk. “We’ve been asleep. What’s wrong, Webs?”  
  
“She’s missing,” Webby said, grimacing. “She’s gone, my window is open, and someone left me $20.”  
  
“$20?” Louie exclaimed, all vestiges of sleep gone. He sprang to his feet. “Lead on, sister.”  
  
“It’s probable that whoever took her left the $20 and the window open,” Huey surmised. “But we can go investigate.”  
  
“Are the security cameras working?” Webby pressed. “It doesn’t look like our alarm system is.”  
  
“World’s richest duck, can’t spare a few bucks for a good alarm system,” Louie said with a shrug. He shoved aside his blankets and approached her. Dewey thrust aside the blankets too and stretched, yawning.  
  
“I don’t think that’s what happened,” Huey said. He pulled on his hat and gestured for her to lead on. She did, with the boys falling into line behind her. The growing sense of wrongness tightened her throat. Had someone really come in here and then paid $20 for the other Webby? Why?  
  
Huey investigated the scene of the crime while Louie, to no one’s great surprise, pocketed the money.  
  
“You can’t keep that,” Huey hissed. “It’s evidence. You just got your prints all over it.”  
  
“If the security cameras are working, we won’t have to dust for prints,” Webby pointed out.  
  
“Why would the security cameras be working but not the security system?” Dewey asked, frowning. He’d noticed her agitation and also that her bandages needed to be changed again. Webby had observed the latter too but was preoccupied with their current predicament.  
  
“Passive versus active security,” Huey theorized. “You can monitor people, but you can’t send out a signal.”  
  
“Maybe you guys should check the archive room and make sure she didn’t try to escape through the mirror,” Webby said. It seemed exceedingly unlikely, though.  
  
“We’ll go with you to the camera room first,” Huey said. They proceeded in a less than orderly fashion down the hall and then bumped into Scrooge, who had been walking and reading the morning paper. Dewey and Webby steadied him, lest he fall over, and Scrooge looked over the top of his newspaper to frown at them.  
  
“What’s the big hurry?” he asked.  
  
“Webby 2 is gone and we were hoping we could look at the security footage,” Webby said.  
  
“What happened to the DT-87? And the alarms on the windows and doors?” Scrooge said, scowling.  
  
“Probably Magica,” Huey said.  
  
Scrooge cursed and then looked up at them. “You didn’t hear that. You definitely won’t tell Donald that you heard that.”  
  
“Of course not,” Louie answered, doubtlessly filing away the obscenity for later. Webby rolled her eyes.  
  
They trooped over to the security room while Scrooge, putting his paper aside for the time being, pulled out his cell phone to repair the alarm system. Of course, if it had been Magica, Webby doubted any measure of mundane fixing would ameliorate the problem. Scrooge probably needed a whole new alarm system. She didn’t mention that she and Huey had gutted the DT-87. That was beside the point and also, she didn’t think Scrooge would take kindly to the news.  
  
Scrooge fired up the cameras from last night, all the while grumbling about his system not working, and he zoomed in on the one directly near Webby’s window. There weren’t security cameras in the kids’ bedrooms, just in the master bedroom, to allow them their privacy. After speeding through a few hours of nothing, Doofus and his parents appeared on the screen.  
  
Scrooge turned on the sound in time for them to hear Doofus announce his plans and leave the $20 bill in Webby’s room. Louie pulled it out of his pocket and, looking guilty, shoved it back in. Webby doubted he’d keep it now. Money might be money, but to hold onto it would be to admit that what Doofus had done was all right.  
  
Muttering darkly to himself, Scrooge turned toward them. “We have to go over there and have a talk with him.”  
  
“We can handle it,” Louie assured him and Scrooge raised his eyebrows.  
  
“We can,” he promised. “We’ll get Webby 2 back. I promise.”  
  
The older duck gave them a skeptical look.  
  
“This sounds like something the adults ought to settle, not the kids,” he said.  
  
“Maybe normally, but this is because he has a beef with us,” Dewey said.  
  
“How does he know what I smell like…” Webby muttered. “We’ve never even met. How does he survive being so creepy?”  
  
“It’s a mystery, Webs,” Louie said, draping an arm around her shoulders. “A real mystery. So, can we go? Besides, it’s not like his parents are doing much adulting.”  
  
“Or any, for that matter,” Scrooge said darkly. He’d stopped the footage on them making their escape with their ill-gotten cargo. Webby 2 remained asleep, but it was too much to hope for that she was still asleep now. To wake up to Doofus sounded horrific.  
  
“You can go,” he allowed. “But I still want to have a talk with Doofus’s parents before this is all over. He can’t get away with kidnapping.”  
  
“He won’t,” Webby vowed. “I have a plan.”  
  
“And I’ll be along in an hour in case your plan doesn’t work,” Scrooge warned.  
  
\-----  
A half hour later, after a bandage change, and a failed attempt at a plan, they arrived at the Drake mansion. Scrooge had promised them he’d be right behind them and, indeed, she thought she’d heard Launchpad start the limo not long after they’d left on foot.  
  
“You ring the bell,” Louie said. “I’ve had enough of that creeper.”  
  
“ _You_  ring it,” Dewey argued. “You’re the one who actually knows him.”  
  
“If by ‘know’, you mean trying to flee him with my life, then yes, I know him,” Louie shot back. Webby stifled a groan as the two boys continued to argue. Huey was attempting to break it up and step in between the two but wound up complicating matters further. He was swept up in the argument too.  
  
“ _I’ll_ ring the bell,” Webby said, rolling her eyes. She waited for the servant to answer the bell and then offered her most winsome smile.  
  
“Hi, I’m Webby,” she said brightly. “And we’d like to see Doofus Drake.”  
  
The butler gave her a cursory look. “And who are you?”  
  
“I just said,” she said, wilting. “I’m Webby. Webby Vanderquack.”  
  
The butler’s eyes widened and, without warning, he slammed the door in her face. The wind of it struck her cheeks and she blinked, doing a double take. Well, that was rude. The boys had desisted their debate to gawk too.  
  
“Guess you’re not rich enough,” Louie said in an offhand voice. “Doofus only wants the richest of the rich kids to hang out with.”  
  
“He recognized my name,” Webby said, folding her arms across her chest. “He knows who I am. That means the other Webby must be here.”  
  
Webby rang the doorbell again and this time, when the butler answered, his face was tight with apprehension. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and she thrust her foot in the doorway to prevent him from shutting her out again. She couldn’t help but think that he wanted to flee and badly.  
  
“You’re here for her, aren’t you?” he asked and she nodded.  
  
From what she could see, the conversation could go two ways. The first way, he could recognize that Doofus had kidnapped someone and release her. The second way, which was apparently the one that he’d decided on, involved him pushing her out of the way. Unfortunately for him, Webby was too fast to allow it. She threw herself into the room and the boys barreled past the butler before he had a chance to leave them out again.  
  
“Dude, your son kidnapped someone,” Louie said. “Don’t you even care?”  
  
“Son?” Webby repeated. “That’s his father?”  
  
“Yeah, his mom and dad are the maid and butler,” Louie said. Webby shot him a dirty look. That was information she probably could’ve used before they’d set out.  
  
“He’s going to be very upset I let you in here…” Doofus’s father fussed. “And you won’t like him when he’s unhappy.”  
  
“I don’t like him now,” Louie muttered. Webby had to agree.  
  
“Can’t you talk to him?” Huey asked, frowning. “I mean, he is your son. You can’t let him walk all over you.”  
  
“You don’t understand!” the butler burst out. “You can’t control him!”  
  
“Where is he?” Webby said, fearing they were getting nowhere fast. She heard a yelp coming from her left and, without waiting for permission, dashed in that direction. She didn’t worry whether the others were following. Instead, she followed the sound to its source, a doorknob on a door leading to the exit. The other Webby, Webby 2, was tugging desperately on a bracelet around her wrist that seemed magnetically attached to the metal.  
  
“Hello, Webby,” Doofus said and Webby whirled, assuming a defensive position.  
  
“You have to let her go,” Webby said. “You can’t kidnap people.”  
  
“I’m one of the richest kids in the world,” Doofus said dismissively. “I can do whatever I want. Besides, she’s not going anywhere. Are you, Webby? Either of you.”  
  
His eyes gleamed maliciously. “I wondered what would happen if we ever met. I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re much prettier in person than I thought.”  
  
Something near her made a gagging sound. She thought it was one of the boys, but they hadn’t accompanied her yet. Perplexed, she looked down and saw her shadow...but it wasn’t her shadow, per se. It looked like…  
  
A bracelet slammed into her right wrist and hit it with enough force to crack it. Webby yelped as the bracelet dragged her to the door knob’s other side, where she met Webby 2’s eyes with resignation. This was turning into some rescue. Ugh.  
  
“Now I have both of you for my collection,” Doofus said. He surveyed them critically. “Oh, yeah, and your shadow talks. That’s weird. But it makes you rarer.”  
  
“My shadow...talks?” Webby said, nonplussed. Her shadow wasn’t doing anything interesting now and she stretched experimentally. Nothing happened. And the pain from her wrist was bringing tears to her eyes. When she’d slammed into the doorknob, she thought she’d heard something snap.  
  
“It was talking last night,” Webby 2 said. “I would’ve told you, but…”  
  
“Lena?” Webby whispered and Doofus stepped forward.  
  
“Now that I have both of you in my collection, I’m afraid I can’t let you go,” Doofus said. “You see, no one else has both our universe and an alternate universe version of them.”  
  
He smiled and it sent chills down Webby’s spine. She thought she heard, very faintly, a whispered apology. She wanted to focus on that, but they had bigger problems right now. Yanking on the bracelet was not an option--grinding the metal against her wrist sent agonizing pain up and down her arm. She looked at it and then had to glance away again--it was hanging at an odd angle. Definitely broken.  
  
“Great, since when do you end up captured?” Louie complained. The boys arrived, accompanied by Doofus’s parents.  
  
Louie stared at her. “Your wrist…”  
  
“Yeah, she’s not in mint condition anymore,” Doofus said. He pressed on Webby’s broken wrist and she bit back a scream. The other Webby kicked him and, encouraged by the other Webby’s violence, Webby belted Doofus across the face with her free hand. He snarled, trying to decide which one he needed to subdue, when they moved in concert, kicking and punching. He couldn’t fend off both girls and Webby 1’s blows had a great deal more force behind them. She felt something give beneath her foot and Doofus screamed. It had felt like a rib under her foot, but she wasn't positive.  
  
“Find the release!” Webby 1 commanded while Doofus was doubled over.  
  
“We have it,” Doofus’s mother said, pressing a button on a small device on her wrist, and the girls sagged, Webby 1 collapsing to the floor and cradling her right wrist. Doofus snarled, rounding on his parents. This might’ve been more impressive if he weren’t half-crouched from whatever injury Webby 1 had inflicted.  
  
“Did he hurt you?” Webby 2 asked quietly. Her eyes shone with concern.  
  
“Not as bad as I’m gonna hurt him,” Webby snarled and pushed herself to her feet with her good wrist. The pain brought tears to her eyes and it was hard to concentrate, but that didn’t matter. She could worry about that later. Instead, as Doofus confronted his mother’s treachery, Webby swept his feet out from under him and then kicked him in the chin, snapping his head back. She followed this up by slamming her foot on his chest and taking his breath away. He tried to struggle away and she pressed harder.  
  
“Why did you do that…” Doofus whined and Webby wasn’t sure whether he was asking this of his mother or her. She could feel her wrist bones grinding together and it was singularly one of the most painful things she’d endured in her young life. It wasn’t making her charitable toward him.  
  
“Wait,” Webby 2 protested. “The Doofus I know would never hurt anyone. He’s not like this. That means there must be some good inside of him.”  
  
“He kidnapped you,” Dewey said, nonplussed. “He kidnapped you and was going to ‘add you to his collection’. Your definition of ‘good’ might need some tweaking, Webby 2.”  
  
“We’re leaving,” Webby 1 hissed. “We’re leaving and you’re going to stop stalking McDuck Manor. Got it?”  
  
“Can’t...breathe…” Doofus choked and she let up slightly, enough for him to gasp air into his lungs. She hadn’t stepped off him. The bracelet might’ve fallen off, but it meant she could see her broken wrist out of the corner of her eye. The sight of it at such an odd angle sent her stomach churning.  
  
“There is good in you, isn’t there?” Webby 2 protested, kneeling by him. “You’re not that bad a person.”  
  
“You should go,” his mother said. “Now.”  
  
“And you should probably see a doctor to get that set, Webby,” Huey said. “I can make a makeshift splint in the meanwhile, but I’m not a doctor.”  
  
Webby nodded, stepping off him. Sudden resentment for her condition rushed through her and she kicked Doofus again hard in the side. He groaned. Maybe the pain was making her short-tempered. She could also see, out of the corner of her eye, that her shadow appeared to be moving slightly out of sync with her.  
  
“Let’s go,” she said, keeping a close eye on Doofus in case he had another trick up his sleeve. Given the way he was groaning and rolling around on the floor, he probably didn’t, but she didn’t trust him.  
  
They backed out of the room and all of them had their eyes on Doofus until it was safe to look straight ahead and then flee. Webby gritted her teeth; running jostled her wrist and she slowed to a walk as soon as they were out of the mansion. Huey cast his gaze about for materials to make a splint.  
  
“I can’t believe you did that,” Webby 2 said in awe. “You beat him up.”  
  
“You’re not defending him, are you?” Dewey said. “Because that was pretty indefensible.”  
  
“No...I mean, I don’t know if there is good in him, but...that was still...pretty cool,” she said. She beamed at Webby 1. “The boys are right. You are...a badass.”  
  
She blushed when she said this. That was probably the closest she’d ever come to cursing.  
  
Webby 1 might’ve brushed off the adulation or at least told her not to think about it, but she was clamping her beak against a pained outcry. Huey had found a branch and, with Dewey’s help, was ripping a shirt into strips to bind her wrist to her body. Dewey had given up his t-shirt for the cause.  
  
“You’re really getting run through the ringer, aren’t you?” Louie said quietly. He squeezed her shoulder and Webby could only breathe freely once Huey had finished the splint. It still hurt, mind you, but not to the same extent.  
  
“Let’s go home before Doofus gets any other ideas,” Webby 1 said. She thought she could make the trip home without too much distress. Of course, she could be wrong.  
  
Thankfully, they didn’t need to go too far. Uncle Scrooge and Launchpad were just around the corner and, after Scrooge scowled at Webby 2’s bruises and Webby 1’s broken wrist, he ordered them to return to the manor to pick up Mrs. Beakley and then from there, straight to the hospital.  
  
\----  
  
Webby waited until Webby 1’s wrist was set and she wasn’t gritting her teeth against the pain it caused to ask her the burning question she’d had since the rescue.  
  
“Who’s Lena?” she said.  
  
“She was Magica’s shadow, but she was my best friend,” Webby 1 said. They sat in the ER and waited for the discharge papers. “She called herself Magica’s niece.”  
  
“Like Minima?” she asked.  
  
“I don’t know who that is…” Webby 1 said, frowning. “But...Lena was my best friend and then Magica destroyed her; she sacrificed herself for me.”  
  
Webby 1 looked down and tears brimmed in her eyes. She hugged herself with her good arm. “I miss her so much.”  
  
“But what does that have to do with your shadow?”  
  
Webby 2 looked up at the others. Louie was trying to cheat someone out of money, Dewey was sitting to the side and staying out of the conversation, but he looked concerned regardless, and Huey was talking to the doctor about proper aftercare for Webby’s injury. They were so different, the boys. Webby still couldn’t get over it.  
  
“Doofus said my shadow talks,” Webby 1 said. “I think....I hope...Lena’s still with me, as my shadow now.”  
  
“Oh!” Webby 2 exclaimed and then blushed. “I kinda forgot, because of everything that happened. But you’re right. Your shadow did say something. She said to tell me that ‘Lena has your back’. She also called me girly.”  
  
Tears slipped down Webby 1’s cheeks. “So it was her.”  
  
“Hey,” Dewey said. “Hey. I guess she didn’t vanish after all.”  
  
“We have to bring her back somehow,” Webby 1 said, lifting her head defiantly. “All those magic books I secreted into the manor. We have to use them to bring her back. She had a corporeal form before. She can have one again. I just have to figure out how.”  
  
“Maybe Minima can help,” Webby 2 volunteered.  
  
“I still don’t know who that is…” Webby 1 said, frowning at her. She swiped at her eyes and her shadow moved as if it were trying to help too.  
  
“You said Lena’s Magica’s niece, right? Minima is Magica’s niece from my dimension, except she’s not her shadow. She’s real,” Webby said.  
  
“Lena’s real…” Webby 1 muttered. She hugged herself tighter and Dewey hugged her too.  
  
“Minima knows magic too,” Webby pressed. “She’s one of my friends.”  
  
She frowned, looking down. “She’s my only friend. The boys are too mean and I don’t like Doofus.”  
  
“Do you think she could help?” Webby 1 asked, lifting her head.  
  
“If I can get her through the mirror…” she replied, frowning deeper. “But the mirror’s broken. They’d have to ask Magica to fix it.”  
  
“We’re not asking our Magica,” Dewey said. “She almost killed us. She came pretty close to wiping out all of us.”  
  
“She tried to kill you?”  
  
“Oh, she did a lot more than ‘try’,” Webby 1 muttered. “Like Dewey said, she came pretty close. She wanted us dead.”  
  
“I don’t know if my Magica is that evil…” Webby said, squirming. “That sounds kinda extreme.”  
  
Webby 1’s shadow scoffed, at least, that was what it sounded like. Webby 1 twisted around to try and see her, but there was nothing unusual about her features to her. She wilted, discouraged.  
  
“Lemme guess. None of your villains routinely try to kill you,” Louie said, returning from his failed attempt at grifting.  
  
“Not...really?” Webby 2 said, frowning at them. “Doesn’t that scare you?”  
  
“We can handle it,” Dewey said.  
  
Webby 2 hugged herself. That sounded scary, a lot worse than her universe. Maybe that was why the others were tougher here--- they had to be. It made her want to go home, but, at the same time...things were better here too. The triplets treated her as an equal. Uncle Scrooge didn’t consider her slightly better than the help. Sure, Doofus was creepy and she couldn’t defend herself. Oh, she didn’t know now. She wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore.  
  
It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows anywhere.  
  
“We can’t do anything about the mirror from this side,” Huey remarked. Mrs. Beakley was coming around to pick them up; they could see her heading toward them from the nurses’ station.  
  
“We’re going to have to wait until they repair it on their side. But they did try to send you a note. I think.”  
  
“It came out as confetti,” Dewey commented. “But they were trying to apologize. They probably feel guilty.”  
  
“They should,” Webby 2 huffed and then stared at the floor. “But I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I let them get to me.”  
  
“You’ve got to stand up to us, I mean, them,” Huey said. “You can’t let them push you around like that.”  
  
“And they seriously need to grow up,” Dewey said. “The last time I checked, girls don’t have ‘cooties’. They’re acting like you’re something contagious.”  
  
Webby 1 was silent, hugging herself and staring at her shadow. Tears still slipped down her cheeks and Dewey hugged her.  
  
“I promise, when the mirror’s fixed, I’ll come back and bring Minima,” she said. “I’ll help you guys. You’ve helped me.”  
  
“You got kidnapped because of us,” Louie pointed out. “We didn’t really help you.”  
  
“But you’ve been so nice…” Webby protested. “And you didn’t have to be.”  
  
“Just because your version of us are jerks doesn’t mean we are,” Louie said. He was back to scrolling through his phone and she wondered what held his interest.  
  
“Besides, ‘these ducks don’t back down’,” Dewey said and Louie looked up from his phone, tucked it into his pocket, and threw a spare pillow at Dewey’s face.  
  
“It still sounds way better when Uncle Donald says it,” Louie informed him.  
  
“Will you help me stand up to them?” she asked.  
  
“If you’ll help me bring back Lena,” Webby 1 said. She bit her lower beak and Dewey’s grip on her tightened.  
  
“It’s a deal,” she said. “I’d say ‘shake on it’, but maybe you shouldn’t, in your condition.”  
  
“We can shake,” Webby 1 said. Webby’s gaze flicked to her broken wrist. Her shadow was moving strangely and the friendship bracelet was moving back and forth on its own. Lena, Webby 1 had said. Webby wondered whether she was anything like Minima.  
  
She offered her hand and they shook just as Mrs. Beakley came back around.  
  
“I’m not going to ask,” Mrs. Beakley said stiffly. “Are we all ready to go?”  
  
They nodded and Mrs. Beakley smiled at Webby 1. “You’ve had quite a week.”  
  
“I know, but, maybe...things are turning around,” she said and smiled at the other Webby. Webby 2 smiled back and blushed, ducking her head.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magica '87 betrays '87 Scrooge and WE WERE ALL SO SHOCKED, YOU GUYS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would normally post a bonus chapter on Wednesday, especially as Monday is so close to Saturday when I posted last. However, Wednesday is Yom Kippur. No work allowed, the Holiest of Holy Days. 
> 
> Also, I had a crappy day and I want love.

Magica de Spell paced in front of the mirror. With her magic, she could penetrate to the other side and see the alternate universe. It was cloudy and fragmented, little better than what the normal mortal eye could see, but she saw blood glittering where the mirror had broken on this side. That was interesting. She filed that information away for later.  
  
Scrooge thought she did this for a convoluted reason. Did he really think she would repair the mirror and be on her way? Ha, more the fool he. Of course, Magica wouldn’t chance entering the mirror now, when the odds were slim she’d survive. But once the mirror was operational again, it posed no risk.  
  
Honestly, hadn’t he realized she was bending the truth before? Repaired, the mirror would be safe. Prior to its breakage, it’d been safe enough for Webbigail to walk through unharmed. Magica hadn’t told him that either. Withholding such information might be cruel and she did feel a small amount of guilt about it, but the promise of the alternate universe was too much for her. Together, with her counterpart, she might finally be able to defeat Scrooge once and for all.  
  
The old fool was in his office, as she’d banished him to prevent him from interfering. She needed concentration for this and, also, the mirror’s jagged edges reminded her of the jagged rocks Della had plunged onto more than ten years ago. Magica was unable to get the image of Della’s broken body out of her mind. Her hand trembled as she braced herself against the mirror frame. Della. Now that was something to feel guilt and remorse about.  
  
If there was even a chance she could find the other Della and speak with her one last time…  
  
There was a possibility that their relationship was more antagonistic in the alternate universe. Magica didn’t pretend to know her counterpart’s moods and personality. She sighed, stepping back. The mirror’s frame was so cold and unwelcoming. She wasn’t sure if it was the mirror’s design or a warning.  
  
Retreating a safe distance from the mirror, in case this didn’t work, she raised her hands and commenced an incantation. Red magic sparks flew from her fingertips and palm as she chanted. This particular spell was lengthy and required precise pronunciation and timing. It had an internal rhyme scheme and when she finished, panting, she assessed the mirror.  
  
Nothing had changed. She didn’t do anything foolish, like kick the mirror as one of the brats had done. Rather, she started the incantation over again. She must have missed something or misspoken.  
  
By the sixth time, her voice grew hoarse and yet, she detected the glass knitting itself together. Encouraged, she conjured up water and continued.  
  
It took twenty tries, over an hour, before the mirror stood before her, unbroken and fully operational. She ought to tell Scrooge.  
  
Shrugging, she figured he’d find out soon enough. She placed her palms against the glass, which shimmered and rippled like water. Bracing herself, she prepared to step through it. The archive door opened and she turned toward the rich old duck. Scrooge’s eyes widened.  
  
“I said I would help you, Scroogie,” Magica said. “I never said the price. Mirror only works once a day, maybe less. Better luck next time.”  
  
She blew him a kiss and stepped through. Colors turned inside out and a bright light blinded her for a few seconds. Then something hurtled through the mirror on top of her and they landed with a crash.  
  
“You were supposed to stay put!” she snarled, disentangling herself from Scrooge. Scrooge was attempting to get his feet under him and whacked her with his cane. She kicked at him and hoped her attack was enough to send him flying back through the mirror. He fell short of it and besides, the mirror’s entrance point was closed for the time being.  
  
“Tricked by Magica de Spell,” Scrooge growled. “I should’ve known.”  
  
“Idiot!” she snapped. “Now you are trapped here too!”  
  
“Only until the mirror opens back up again,” he retorted. “And then I’ll be back with wee little Webbigail.”  
  
“But not with me,” she snapped, brushing herself off. “I have business.”  
  
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he countered and grabbed her wrist. She glowered but he didn’t relinquish his grip. The familiar sensation of sparks between them flew and, as before, Magica ignored them. She told herself that he was an old coot and this meant nothing. After all, she’d been ignoring this for years now, as had he.  
  
“You’re not going anywhere,” he snapped. “I didn’t give you permission to use the mirror.”  
  
“You think I need your permission? Arrogant fool!”  
  
“I asked you for a simple favor; you could’ve lorded it over me for years. But, no, you take advantage--”  
  
“Of course I take advantage! When is another opportunity like this going to land in my lap? You are naive to think I would not have taken advantage,” she returned and her beak curled in disdain. “Release me, McDuck.”  
  
“I think not,” he said.  
  
“You are going to parade me around this universe?” she scoffed. “Just to find your precious ‘Webbigail’? You are suffering under the delusion that I will permit you to do that.”  
  
“And what is that supposed to mean?”  
  
“It means, McDuck, that you are only holding onto me because I am letting you do so,” she said and yanked her wrist out of his grip. Or, at least, she tried, but for an old codger, he was surprisingly strong.  
  
“Oh, let go, curse you.”  
  
“Not until I have Webbigail back,” he said.  
  
Magica’s eyes glittered dangerously. She kicked him in the stomach, the suddenness of which caused him to lose his grip, and she took off, throwing down smoke gas to conceal her exit. Assuming that McDuck Manor’s dimensions were the same in this universe, she beat a hasty escape to the nearest window where she could fly. She didn’t know where her counterpart was, but magic calls to magic. Like calls to like. Her counterpart would be waiting for her, whether she knew it or not.  
  
“Magica!” Webby called and, startled, the sorceress halted in her tracks.  
  
“That’s Magica?” the brat with the red hat said. She hadn’t kept track of their names. Behind him, his brothers halted, along with what Magica could only assume was Webby’s counterpart. To Magica’s surprise, the other girl, who looked older than Scrooge’s precious Webbigail, stared at her with hatred in her eyes. Even in her dimension, where she and Scrooge had such enmity towards each other, no one had ever looked at her quite like that.  
  
“The mirror’s fixed!” Webby cried joyously. Magica glanced to and fro, searching for an exit, and heard Scrooge coming up behind her. Time had run out.  
  
Unfortunately, the brats were blocking the nearest window. Throwing down another gas cloud, she leaped clear of them, broke the window, and flew out. As she did, she kicked off a weight that had latched onto her leg. It must’ve been one of the brats.  
  
“Get back here!” the older girl screeched.  
  
“She must be going off to find the other Magica,” she heard the younger Webby say. Magica snorted, speeding off into the distance.  
  
\----  
  
“Webby, no!” the boys shouted as their Webby tried to chase after her. The smoke was clearing and Webby 1 stared, morose, out the broken window to Magica disappearing amongst the clouds. She was shaking and tears glittered in her eyes.  
  
“Get back here!” she snapped. “Get back here and see what you’ve done! Damn it, come back!”  
  
The boys tackled her and she thrust them all aside; her lower beak quivered and she seemed to be swallowing back sobs.  
  
“It’s too late, Webs,” Louie said, his voice surprisingly gentle.  
  
“I can’t believe she got away twice,” Webby 1 said and her chest heaved. The boys rose to their feet and surrounded her.  
  
“My darling Webbigail?” Uncle Scrooge said and both Webbys turned. Squealing in delight, Webby rushed to him and he scooped her up into his arms.  
  
“Bless me bagpipes, you’re all right!” he exclaimed. Webby closed her eyes and hugged him back, though she didn’t miss Webby 1 staring out the window with her fists balled.  
  
“Webby? It’s okay,” Dewey said.  
  
“I just want Lena back…” Webby 1 said in a small voice. Webby opened her eyes to spy the boys hugging her tightly.  
  
“Does this mean we can go home?” Webby asked.  
  
“Not yet, lass,” he said and scowled. “We don’t know how often the mirror works and Magica’s run off without telling us.”  
  
He turned toward the older Webby. “Lass, what’s the matter?”  
  
Rather than answer, she shook her head and buried her face in Louie’s hoodie.  
  
“What did I say?” Scrooge asked, baffled.  
  
“Just what we needed--two Magica de Spells on the loose,” Huey said, groaning. “Hey, hey. Webby. Let it out. It’s okay.”  
  
“I’m gonna get her,” Webby 1 said and there was something ominous in the way she said it. “I’ll get her back.”  
  
Webby wasn’t sure whether Webby 1 meant Lena or Magica. The other Webby didn’t clarify, either. Instead, she hugged the boys back and stifled sobs. Webby understood how she felt. If something had happened to her best friend, she would’ve been distraught too.  
  
“All right, what’s going on? What’s with all the yelling?” the red-attired Scrooge demanded, entering the scene. He took in everything, from the broken window to Webby 1 swearing vengeance to the other Scrooge standing there holding Webby up. His gaze tracked over all of them for a minute and his frown deepened.  
  
“I assume the mirror’s fixed,” he said quietly.  
  
“And now there are two Magicas running around Duckberg,” Huey said, arm around Webby’s shoulders.  
  
“Aye, I gathered that from the broken window and Webby screaming,” the older Scrooge remarked. He cocked his head at the blue-clad Scrooge.  
  
“Don’t I know you?” he said.  
  
“It’s you!” Webby burst out. “Or the other you.”  
  
“Yes, let’s not make this any more confusing than it already is,” the red-clad Scrooge said. He halted a few feet away from his counterpart. The two assessed each other.  
  
“You let Magica de Spell into this universe,” red Scrooge said, still in that strange quiet voice that unnerved Webby. “You let another one into this universe after you thought she’d help you and she betrayed you.”  
  
Her Scrooge didn’t react and the red Scrooge moved forward again, stopping less than six inches away from his counterpart. She could feel the simmering anger coming off him and she cringed.  
  
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” he cried. “My Magica de Spell has no power right now, but now that yours is on her way over there, she will. You just brought a whole slew of trouble down upon our heads!”  
  
“I was trying to rescue my wee darling Webbigail,” her Scrooge said defiantly. “As I’m sure you would’ve done the same.”  
  
“I wouldn’t have trusted Magica,” the red Scrooge snapped. “I would’ve sooner trusted a Beagle Boy not to rob me Money Bin than trusted Magica de Spell not to doublecross me.”  
  
“Now see here. This isn’t my fault!” her Scrooge retorted. “I didn’t want to leave Webby all alone here!”  
  
“You mean the Webby you treat like a servant?” Louie said. “Because I can kinda see why she’d rather stay here.”  
  
“I don’t treat her like a servant!” her Scrooge objected. “She just has traditional roles as a girl. I treat her a sight better than the boys do.”  
  
“We need to have a discussion,” the red Scrooge said and his voice remained dangerously low, containing suppressed anger. “And not in the middle of the hallway. Come. We’ll go to the dining hall.”  
  
“I’m sorry I brought Magica de Spell down on you, but she’s not that much of a danger,” Scrooge protested. “She’s after me money, more than likely.”  
  
“And the Magica I know would kill every one of us as revenge for trapping her in me lucky dime,” the red Scrooge snapped. “As she came pretty close to doing before. I will explain things.”  
  
Without offering any further edification, he stormed off with the triplets and their Webby trailing behind.  
  
“Are you all right, Webbigail?” Scrooge asked her in an undertone.  
  
“I’m fine,” she said. “We had an adventure, though! The Doofus here is mean and kidnapped me because he wanted to add me to his collection, but the other Webby came and rescued me. She can fight and defend herself and she’s so cool, Uncle Scrooge. I wanna be just like her when I grow up!”  
  
“Aye, don’t be in a hurry to grow up too soon,” he said gently. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my wee sweet girl.”  
  
“No wonder she’s a cinnamon roll,” Louie muttered. “Look how much she’s getting coddled.”  
  
“I am not a pastry and I am not getting coddled,” Webby huffed.  
  
“Oh, that’s right, you’re pre-internet,” Webby 1 said. Her voice was strangled, perhaps because she was trying to master her emotions. “Louie’s not calling you a pastry. He’s saying that you’re sweet and innocent and you deal with more than you deserve. It’s a meme.”  
  
“What’s a meme?”  
  
“Ugh, you confused her again,” Louie complained.  
  
“We’d have to explain the whole internet culture to her,” Huey protested. “That could take a while.”  
  
The red Scrooge turned around to look at them and she thought she glimpsed remorse in his gaze. He was feeling guilty about something, anyway, because he looked from her to the other Webby and then glanced ahead.  
  
They found Mrs. Beakley in the dining room conversing with…a ghost? Webby shrieked.  
  
“That looks like Duckworth,” her Scrooge commented. “But, how can that be?”  
  
“It is Duckworth,” Dewey said in a nonchalant tone. “He’s Uncle Scrooge’s dead butler. Cool, right?”  
  
“Not cool!” Webby protested. She didn’t know Duckworth as well as she could’ve, although they were both technically servants, but it both disturbed and saddened her to see him as a ghost in this universe. Scrooge gently placed her down in a chair and sat beside her. He was staring at the ghost Duckworth and Webby whimpered.  
  
Perhaps sensing the mood, Duckworth disappeared, floating through the door. Webby trembled and Scrooge hugged her.  
  
“A ghost…” she whimpered, distressed.  
  
“You don’t have a lot of experience with the supernatural, do you, lass?” the red Scrooge said.  
  
“No…” Webby murmured.  
  
“Two Scrooges,” Mrs. Beakley muttered. “Just what we need. Next thing you know everyone will be here.”  
  
“Not everyone,” Huey said.  
  
“Not Mom…” Dewey said, staring at the table. The triplets fell silent and, confused, Webby turned to look at Scrooge. The mood, if anything, grew even tenser. Apparently, Della Duck was a taboo subject around here.  
  
“Why don’t you tell me about your Magica de Spell from the beginning?” her Scrooge said, attempting to dispel the stressful atmosphere.  
  
“There’s not much to tell,” the other Scrooge demurred. “We fought on Mount Vesuvius and I trapped her in me number one dime for fifteen years. Then, with the help of her shadow, she got free, trapped me in the dime, tried to kill everyone in the family and only her shadow’s sacrifice helped us defeat her.”  
  
“Was that shadow Lena?” Webby asked and Webby 1 nodded, morose.  
  
“Yeah...my best friend…” Webby 1 murmured.  
  
“Technically, she only tried to kill us because we came to save you,” Huey pointed out.  
  
“You weren’t going to let me stay in the dime, were you?” the red Scrooge asked.  
  
“Considering how upset we were with you at that point, maybe,” Dewey said. “You shouldn’t have kept the secret of our mom from us.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” the red Scrooge said and then glanced at Webby 1. “And I’m sorry for yelling at you on the Sunchaser, lass. You didn’t deserve it and I was lashing out.”  
  
There was some family dynamic here Webby couldn’t parse. She was glad that Uncle Scrooge had said she wasn’t a servant, but something struck her as off about his saying that she had a traditional gender role. The other Webby didn’t. Had society changed that much in thirty years?  
  
“But am I family?” Webby 1 murmured.  
  
“Of course you are,” he said. He looked up to see Mrs. Beakley sniff at him.  
  
“That was long overdue,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “And I’ll thank you never to speak to my granddaughter again that way.”  
  
“All right, fine,” the red Scrooge said. “There’s a wee bit more than just what I told you about Magica. It really started with the boys and Webby investigating what happened to Della…”  
  
About a half hour later, the red Scrooge finished his tale, with assistance from the boys and Webby 1.  
  
“I wonder if the same thing happened to the other Della…” Webby mused.  
  
“No, not quite,” Uncle Scrooge answered. “She died in an accident while we were exploring the Andes in search of treasure. She slipped from the rope, which had gotten frayed, and…”  
  
He stopped and Webby hugged him tightly, trying to ease the sadness that suffused his features.  
  
“Cinnamon roll,” Dewey said.  
  
“It’d probably help if we knew the source of Magica’s powers in our universe,” Uncle Scrooge commented. “I don’t know.”  
  
Webby 1 looked toward her shadow, but it wasn’t doing anything unusual. She frowned.  
  
“After we defeated Magica, Lena became my shadow,” she explained. “But she hasn’t spoken to me yet…the other Webby said that maybe Minima can help.”  
  
“Minima?” the red Scrooge asked.  
  
“Magica’s niece,” her Scrooge answered.  
  
“We’ll worry about that later,” the other Scrooge returned. “We’d better call Launchpad and head for Mount Vesuvius. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to see that place again.”  
  
“You and I both,” her Scrooge answered. “Damn treacherous sorceress.”  
  
“You have a Launchpad too? Does he crash all the time too?” Webby asked.  
  
“Unfortunately, yes,” the other Scrooge said with a sigh. “All the time.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While '87 Webby and '87 Scrooge along with the '17 crew fly to Mount Vesuvius to try to head Magica off, '87 Magica meets her counterpart and is not impressed. The feeling is mutual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this tomorrow morning, as usual, but I decided that, because of the DuckTales news today, I'd post it early. 
> 
> Two things: I had to get creative with '17 Magica, who is a bit...touchy when she's in pain.  
> Also, this chapter includes one of my favorite exchanges between '87 Webby and '17 Scrooge.

"I can’t believe Unca Scrooge left us without telling us if the mirror is fixed,” Dewey huffed and the trio snuck into the archive room. They stared at the mirror, the surface of which was oscillating like a wormhole. Duckworth was waxing Scrooge’s car and Mrs. Beakley was preparing lunch; Webby’s disappearance had put her increasingly on edge and she was inclined to snap at them over little things. They supposed that the mirror must’ve been repaired because of how else could Unca Scrooge have vanished? The fact of the matter was that Unca Scrooge and Magica were gone, which meant they could do nothing until the mirror operated again.  
  
“Man, I hate being sidelined,” Huey complained.  
  
“Do you think they’re okay?” Louie asked anxiously. The mirror’s ability to send people through was gone, but they could still see into the empty archive room on the other side. Whatever Magica had done had eradicated their reflections.  
  
“Did Magica go through with Unca Scrooge?” Dewey asked, ignoring his brother’s question.  
  
The triplets exchanged unhappy glances. If she had, then things were worse than they’d feared. They’d learned the hard way not to play with the mirror, though. Whatever was going on would have to happen without them.  
  
“Wonder what’s going on over there, anyway?” Huey said. “And if they’re okay.”  
  
“Come back safe, Unca Scrooge…” the triplets chorused and placed their palms, albeit gently, against the cool glass. “And you too, Webby…”  
  
\----  
  
“Can’t this thing fly any faster?” her Scrooge demanded. “Who knows what she’s doing on Mount Vesuvius.”  
  
“It’s flying as fast as we can safely, without Launchpad crashing into something,” the other Scrooge remarked. Webby scrunched down in her seat. The triplets, the other Webby (Webby 1), Mrs. Beakley, and both Scrooges were in attendance. Her Uncle Scrooge was holding her in his lap, which she noticed the other Webby wasn’t. Instead, the older girl paced about the ship and kept touching the friendship bracelet on her good arm. Her other arm was in a cast.  
  
“It doesn’t matter how fast or slow he flies,” her Uncle Scrooge sniffed. “He’ll crash without even trying. Least he’s cheap.”  
  
“That’s because no one else will hire him,” the red Scrooge muttered.  
  
“Webby, sit down,” Huey wheedled. “We’re not gonna get there any faster with you pacing.”  
  
“Webby, calm down,” Dewey said, arm about her shoulders. “We’ll get there and we’ll kick Magica’s butt again. There’s nothing to worry about.”  
  
“The last time we encountered her, she destroyed Lena,” Webby 1 said and her beak was tight, clamped back on tears. “What if she takes what’s left? I haven’t even had a chance to talk to her.”  
  
Guilt swamped Webby 2. Webby 1 might not have been able to talk to Lena, but she had. Hearing the message wasn’t the same as talking to the messenger. Plus, Webby 1 was all worked up, not that she could blame her. She just wished she could hold it together so well under stress.  
  
“I won’t be trapped in the dime this time,” the red Scrooge said. “You won’t have to fight alone, Webby. And she was using the dime as a power source. She won’t be able to this time.”  
  
“You’re not still wearing it around your neck, are you?” Dewey asked in alarm.  
  
“It’s back in the money bin,” he reassured him. “I didn’t want to take the chance Magica would get her grimy paws on it.”  
  
“You did the same thing, didn’t you, Uncle Scrooge?” Webby 2 asked and he cleared his throat, looking embarrassed.  
  
“Well, I didn’t expect Magica to betray me and I was wearing me lucky dime around my neck when I went after you…” He flushed.  
  
“That’s one prepared Scrooge and one who obviously wasn’t thinking with the right part of his body,” the red Scrooge snapped. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you two have in your universe, but in this one,  _we do not consort with our enemies!_ ”  
  
“Wait, if you weren’t thinking with your brain, then what part of your body were you thinking with?” Webby 2 asked innocently.  
  
“Wouldn’t we all like to know,” the red Scrooge said darkly.  
  
“O-kay...this is heading into weird territory,” Huey said. He stared at the blue Scrooge. “You two aren’t dating in your universe, are you?”  
  
“Of course not!” her Scrooge said. “Why would I date her?”  
  
“I have no idea,” Huey admitted.  
  
“Either I’m more gullible in the alternate universe or I have a soft spot for Magica there,” the red Scrooge proclaimed. His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know which one I dislike more.”  
  
Rather than respond, her Uncle Scrooge brooded, staring out the Sunchaser’s window. He hugged her to him and, for the first time in her life, she felt like she was being treated like a little kid. Normally it didn’t bother her. But none of the others were being coddled and the other Scrooge certainly didn’t have Webby 1 on his lap.  
  
“This is going to be a long and uncomfortable plane ride,” Huey said.  
  
“You said it,” Dewey agreed.  
  
“We always have the in-flight entertainment,” Launchpad suggested.  
  
“No Darkwing Duck!” Dewey and Louie complained.  
  
“What’s Darkwing Duck?” Webby wondered aloud and the two boys groaned.  
  
“Don’t get him started,” Louie warned. “He’ll go on and on about it. We’ll never get any peace.”  
  
“Hey, in the alternate dimension, am I just as big a fan of Darkwing Duck as I am here?” Launchpad asked, ignoring that Webby didn’t know who that was.  
  
“I don’t know…” Webby said softly. “You seem to spend a lot of time in St. Canard when you’re not flying Uncle Scrooge and the boys around.”  
  
“Huh,” Launchpad said and then shrugged, taking it in his stride. Uncle Scrooge groaned, dragging his hat over his face.  
  
“So...are you both the same amount of rich?” Louie asked. “Or is one of you richer than the other?”  
  
“That’s a good question,” the red Scrooge said. He’d settled in his chair and although he’d been giving his counterpart dagger eyes before, his gaze had turned contemplative and curious rather than hostile. “Just how much are you worth, other me?”  
  
“Oh, about $65.4 billion, give or take a billion,” Uncle Scrooge said.  
  
“That’s interesting. I’m worth three trillion,” the red Scrooge boasted. “Of course, that might be accounting for inflation, too. Thirty years difference.”  
  
He wore a sly smile when he said this and her Scrooge bristled. Webby took it that even accounting for inflation, the other duck was wealthier. Louie beamed at his great-uncle.  
  
“And all of that will be mine someday…” he said.  
  
“That’s what you think,” the red Scrooge scoffed. “I don’t plan on dying.”  
  
“Any time soon, you mean?” Webby 1 said.  
  
“No. I don’t plan on dying. Period.”  
  
“I’m not sure that’s possible…” Huey said.  
  
“Maybe for you it isn’t,” the red Scrooge answered.  
  
“How do you intend to defeat death and become immortal?” Webby 1 mused, rubbing her friendship bracelet still. She glanced over her shoulder to see if her shadow had morphed into anything, but it hadn’t. Her shoulders drooped.  
  
“That’s something we’d all very much like to know,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Of course, if Mr. McDuck has the secret to immortality, then I doubt he’ll be sharing it with the rest of us.”  
  
“Nope,” the red Scrooge confirmed. “But it will sure give me a lot of time to enjoy that additional money that the other me doesn’t have.”  
  
Uncle Scrooge stood up so quickly he dislodged Webby and dropped her on the floor.  
  
“Oh!” she exclaimed, rubbing her sore bottom where she’d collided with the steel.  
  
“Sorry, me darling Webbigail,” he said and then rounded on the other Scrooge. “When we’re done here, I want to see your bank records. Because I don’t believe anyone has more money than me.”  
  
“Gladly,” the red Scrooge said. “We’ll sit here and count pennies if you’re so inclined. And I can tell you all about how not to trust Magica.”  
  
“Guess he’s not over that,” Dewey commented.  
  
“It was an honest mistake, just like when I accidentally sent all my fortune to the Beagle Boys using a spray Gyro invented,” he retorted and the red Scrooge facepalmed so hard that it sounded like it hurt. Webby winced in sympathy, getting to her feet.  
  
“I revise my opinion,” the red Scrooge said. “You can’t possibly be me, because I would never be that gullible in my life.”  
  
“He’s not gullible,” Webby protested, feeling compelled to defend him. “He’s sweet and caring--”  
  
“And cheap and apparently not going to let us enjoy his fortune--” Louie said and the red Scrooge glowered at him. He shut up.  
  
“Just saying,” Louie finished, albeit meekly.  
  
“I didn’t want me fortune to vanish--” Uncle Scrooge snapped.  
  
“Up until it did,” the red Scrooge finished for him.  
  
“Uh, are you sure you don’t want me to put on Darkwing? Because things are getting a little intense in here,” Launchpad said. “I find Darkwing Duck tends to defuse the situation.”  
  
“Fine, put it on,” the red Scrooge said, muttering about incompetence and how he couldn’t believe that the other Scrooge had any money at all, given how naive he was.  
  
The rest of the trip was uncomfortable, much as the triplets had predicted. Although Webby 2 tried to enjoy Darkwing Duck, she couldn’t ignore the glares the two Scrooges shot each other’s way. Webby 1 was still fingering her bracelet and Dewey sat beside her and murmured to her out of Webby’s earshot. Huey was pulling something out of the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook about summoning ghosts, which wasn’t exactly accurate, but he was still trying to help. Louie was half-asleep, doing his utmost to ignore Darkwing Duck.  
  
“Are you okay, Uncle Scrooge?” Webby murmured.  
  
“Aye, I’m just glad you’re all right,” he said and hugged her. “The boys wanted me to tell you that they’re very sorry.”  
  
“They should be!” she huffed. “They always treat me like a baby!”  
  
“I need to have another talk with them,” he said. “I don’t know where they got their opinions, but it’s got to stop.”  
  
“Were they really worried?” Webby asked, earnest.  
  
“Of course they were, Webby me darling. We all were. We love you and we want you to be safe,” he said.  
  
“But this universe is so cool!” Webby burst out, unable to contain herself. “The other me can do all sorts of things that I can’t. She can fight people off and she has a living shadow and her granny was a spy and the boys here are much nicer and they don’t treat me like I’m a third wheel or like I don’t belong.”  
  
“Living shadow?” Scrooge repeated, baffled. He glanced at Webby 1, whose gaze remained downcast and whose attention was held by Dewey almost exclusively.  
  
“She said her name was Lena,” she added and the other Scrooge, who must’ve been listening in or at least overheard them, started.  
  
“Lena?” he repeated and Webby nodded.  
  
“No wonder she’s so upset…” he said.  
  
“I wish I could do all the cool things that the other Webby can do,” Webby said. “I wanna be able to protect myself and beat people up and not be afraid of anything.”  
  
“You know, that might not be a bad idea if you enrolled her in a self-defense class,” the other Scrooge said. “Could give the lass some confidence.”  
  
“And maybe I can go on more adventures with you, Uncle Scrooge? Just like the boys?” she asked.  
  
“Aye, but maybe you could stop sneaking along and announce when you’re coming. And if I’m not letting the boys along, then you’re not coming either. Understand, lass?”  
  
Webby nodded. “You’ll make me more equal? Like one of the boys?”  
  
Her Scrooge nodded. “I’ll do what I can to try to make our universe more welcoming and more exciting, but don’t go wandering off again like that. You scared us half to death.”  
  
“I won’t,” she promised and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back.  
  
She felt safe and secure and also thrilled. When she was with Uncle Scrooge, he could protect her, even if it was against Magica. Besides, she had no idea how bad the Magica in this universe really was. No one had given her more than scant details.  
  
\----  
  
Magica de Spell was infuriated and in a great deal of pain. After her humiliating defeat at the hands of Scrooge and the brats, she’d limped her way back home to Mount Vesuvius, her lair but also the site of her last greatest defeat. She’d found her broom where she’d stashed it on the outskirts of Duckberg, but flying with bruised or broken ribs was not fun. Every time she squeezed the broom’s handle to change direction or adjust her speed, it sent corresponding waves of pain through her.  
  
Webby. Yes, Magica knew her name now. If she hadn’t before, she sure did now. Webby had beaten the living crap out of her, along with Scrooge. She hissed from between gritted teeth. If she had her power, she could’ve healed herself. Instead, she whimpered as she crawled into bed. The last time she’d been so soundly defeated, at least she hadn’t been in agony.  
  
Then again, she’d been trapped inside of a dime on Scrooge’s chest for fifteen years and then tied to a thirteen-year-old girl who listened to  _emo_  for about half of that time. There were tortures worse than the physical. She spread herself out on the bed and tried to find the least uncomfortable position. Poe wasn’t here--she didn’t remember where she’d sent him fifteen years ago, but clearly, he hadn’t felt the need to linger.  
  
If she’d had any juice left, she would’ve summoned him to tend to her. Releasing a stream of profanities, she punched the air and then howled. This prompted further obscenities. She cursed Scrooge, Webby, and Lena in that order. A shadow with a name and a personality. How dare she. How dare she usurp Magica.  
  
She hadn’t destroyed her when Magica had fled, either. Magica knew the remnants of her magic...and Lena wasn’t among them. That meant either Lena had faded away from her magical wound or that she’d disappeared to bide her time, probably with Webby. She wanted to wring Webby’s neck.  
  
But first, she wanted someone to coddle her and nurse her wounds. She sighed. At some point during the battle, she thought she’d become aware of Gladstone, but she hadn’t been focusing on that at that time. She’d been more focused on irritating Scrooge and then fighting off his whelps.  
  
She probably couldn’t expect any help from that quarter, anyway. If Gladstone wasn’t in Duckberg, he certainly wouldn’t be on Mount Vesuvius. She was on her own.  
  
As weak as she was, she could detect foreign magic. She bolted upright; there was an intruder in her lair. Of course, the rapid movement triggered another spasm of pain from her ribs and she cursed. Loudly. Maybe her dirty mouth would be enough to convince whoever it was that this place was inhabited and the occupant was in a foul mood.  
  
The magical sense grew closer and stronger, not weaker and further away. What the actual f. Why couldn’t her intruder take a hint and leave? She pushed herself to a standing position and the pain was so intense she blacked out for a few seconds.  
  
When she recovered her wits, she discovered a black-haired sorceress staring back at her. There was something unutterably familiar about her and her magic made Magica’s skin tingle.  
  
“And who might you be?” she asked, trying to play off like she wasn’t in agony and she had some control over the situation. This unfamiliar sorceress could probably break her in half over her knee with the way she felt now. Again, she cursed Webby, Scrooge, and the whelps, but especially Lena. Traitor.  
  
“Scroogie wasn’t exaggerating,” she remarked. “You look dreadful.”  
  
“You know just how to talk to a woman, don’t you?” Magica grumped.  
  
“It’s a good thing I’m here, then,” the other answered in a brisk tone. “You may not have magic, but I do.”  
  
“That’s all well and good,” Magica hissed. “But who are you?”  
  
“Magica de Spell...I’m you. From an alternate dimension."  
  
“You’re not me,” she hissed, eyes flashing. “You can’t be. I wouldn’t dress...so...like that.”  
  
“What’s wrong with how I dress? Who walks around without shoes?”  
  
“Someone who just had her head handed to her by a bunch of children!” Magica snarled. “Now, if you don’t mind, I am going to nurse my wounds and I’d like to do so in peace!”  
  
“I think I can help you if you’d like…” the other sorceress said. “But, of course, there are strings attached.”  
  
Magica told her in no uncertain terms where she could shove her proposal. She wasn’t convinced that the other woman was her from an alternate dimension and she couldn’t risk revealing any further vulnerability. The other woman smirked and then, waving her staff, feinted at her chest. Magica rolled to get out of the way and an explosion of agony was her reward. She skidded on the floor and screamed every curse word she knew, in multiple languages. Tears streaked her cheeks from the pain; Webby must’ve broken more than one rib. She was going to kill her.  
  
“My offer doesn’t look so bad now, does it?” the other woman cajoled.  
  
“You have no idea how much I loathe you,” she growled, having to force each word out through gritted teeth.  
  
“Hmm, self-hate,” she mused. “I suppose I can work with that. But you need your powers back...and healing. Plus, I haven’t heard you say ‘yes’ to my proposal.”  
  
“Yes, fine, whatever, just fix this,” Magica groaned. She flinched when the other woman raised her staff, but it was only to spread a healing spell over her body. It felt like sinking into a warm, soft bed after a hard, cold night. It was like a greeting from a loved one who had been gone for far too long, assuming Magica had ever experienced the latter. It was, in short, one of the best things she’d ever experienced and she luxuriated in it.  
  
“Now that I have your attention,” the other woman said. “And you’re not in too much pain to think, I have a proposal for you. Scrooge McDuck, both Scrooges, is headed here, one of whom is carrying his number one dime. The brats, including my Webby and yours, are also headed this way. I assume you are interested in revenge.”  
  
(To be honest, the first thought wasn’t revenge. It was licking her wounds and lying low for a while until her bruised ego recovered).  
  
“What did you have in mind?” Magica said, grateful to be able to breathe without feeling like someone was using a sandwich press on her chest. She’d never had a broken rib before and she hoped never to have another.  
  
“Come, let us discuss this. I believe we have a lot in common, you and I.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Magicas prey on Scrooge '17 and '87 and '17 Webbys' fears; the characters find themselves in a maze which they must exit in order to defeat the Magicas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ship Lena/Webby, which isn't a surprise to anyone who's reading Bad Touch/Synthesis. So Magica's word choice to Webby later? Deliberate. Magica knows Webby has a crush on Lena. 
> 
> I figured that Scrooge's worst fear would be hearing that Della's demise was his fault (remember that the viewer knows Della's still alive, but not Scrooge). Meanwhile, Webby 1's would be to lose Lena again and Webby 2's would be to be rejected by her family. 
> 
> I left off with the boys and Scrooge 2 for the time being because this chapter is long as it is.

Though she’d never tell the other woman, Magica was grateful for the healing. They were seated in her dining room and she could sit without gritting her teeth in pain. Now that they were together and she wasn’t in agony, she tried to see similarities between them. Unconsciously, Magica glanced at her staff, which was almost the same as the other woman’s. Physically, though, they looked nothing alike. Their magic seemed to be on a similar wavelength, what little Magica possessed at the moment. Here on Mount Vesuvius, she ought to be able to tap into the ley lines. She hadn’t been able to focus long enough to do so before. With the ley lines assistance, she would be able to scrutinize the other woman and refuel.  
  
Duckberg had no ley lines. It was why she didn’t spend that much time there unless she was terrorizing McDuck. Or, rather, she hadn’t until she’d been sucked into that dime. She bristled, remembering Scrooge’s chest’s warmth against her face. She wanted to wring his neck too, but he hadn’t beaten her as badly as Webby. Therefore, while she resented what he’d done to her, her ire was focused on Webby.  
  
“You have a plan, I assume, beyond telling me something I don’t believe and then waving your staff around,” Magica sniffed.  
  
“A maze,” the other woman replied and waved her staff again. “Full of Scrooge’s worst fears, as well as the others. The only way to escape is to use number one dime.”  
  
Magica frowned, contemplative. She was soaking up the magic inherent in Mount Vesuvius and her body tingled with it. It was almost like having pins and needles all over her body, except that it was pleasant rather than annoying. It reminded her of the last time she’d met Gladstone. She fought to keep a smirk from her face.  
  
“I’m listening,” she said. “But I want Webby for myself. That little brat has it coming.”  
  
At the other woman’s raised eyebrows, Magica elaborated. “My injuries? She inflicted them. She was so upset over my taking her away her precious _shadow_ friend, who was my shadow to begin with. Or, at least, I thought she was until she betrayed me too.”  
  
“Magical shadows betraying you,” the other woman said with a straight face. “I have never had that experience.”  
  
“And I’m sure you’ve never been trapped inside Scrooge’s dime for fifteen years, either,” Magica snapped. “Bully for you. Like I said, you can have the others. Webby is mine.”  
  
“What about other Webby? The one from my side of the mirror?” the woman asked.  
  
“I’ll kill her too,” she said, nonchalant. “Even if she doesn’t pose as much of a threat as the one from my universe, the time-space continuum would be better off without her alive.”  
  
“She really hurt you?” the other woman asked, mirroring her expression too. “Is harmless in my universe. She just dresses in a pretty pink bow and dress and acts like a typical girl.”  
  
“Right,” Magica said tightly. She wanted off this conversation topic now. “Are we going to set up the maze yet or are we going to sit here and chew the fat? Because I have revenge I want to be implemented.”  
  
“Patience,” the other woman counseled her. “Rome was not built in a day.”  
  
“That’s another thing,” Magica retorted. “How do you have a Russian accent? I’m from the UK.”  
  
“Different birthplaces? Is not important,” she replied. “I will leave both Webbys to you. Now, shall we?”  
  
Magica grinned wickedly. This could be quite enjoyable. She looked forward to wringing Webby’s neck and then dangling her in front of Scrooge to see how he’d failed her too. How no matter what he tried, he couldn’t protect the ones he loved. It would also force Lena to return to her, where she would punish her and then destroy her for good. Yes, this was a good plan.  
  
She could feel Webby’s neck snap between her hands and, unaware of the other woman’s thoughts, stepped out from the dining room and toward the staging area of Mount Vesuvius. They moved in concert, both graceful in how they walked as if they owned the place. Then again, they did, didn’t they? While Magica wasn’t convinced that the other woman was her from another dimension, she was pleased that she had someone who could support her and also bring about her enemies’ ends.  
  
And make no mistake about it. They would all suffer for what they’d done to her. It reminded her of a movie she’d seen a long time ago, courtesy of Lena. Magica wouldn’t have ordinarily gone for such things, but Lena had grown more difficult to control at that point and Magica had figured it was better to acquiesce to her for now. That didn’t mean she’d done it willingly, mind you, but she’d tried to ignore the movie.  
  
 _The melody of angry growls  
A counterpoint of painful howls  
A symphony of death, oh my  
That's my lullaby_  
  
Magica grinned maliciously. Yes, a symphony of death would be her lullaby.  
  
\----  
  
They crash-landed on Mount Vesuvius, to no one’s great surprise. Thankfully, although the Sunchaser was damaged, it wasn’t enough to prevent it from taking off later. Launchpad promised to stay there and take care of the plane, which was fine by all of them. The red-clad Scrooge, or Scrooge 1 as his grand-nephews insisted on calling him, halted where the summoning circle would’ve been at the landing base of Mount Vesuvius. Magica had liked to do her magic out in the open air and his feathers vibrated from magic. The whole place resonated with it.  
  
The summoning circle, which Launchpad had used as a landing pad, contained several archaic inscriptions that Scrooge had had occasion to study in the past. The wide, flat surface continued for a mile or so before ending in a steep staircase that led to Magica’s home. Magica’s lair was constructed from marble and the front door was firmly locked. He caught himself about to reach for his number one dime, which was in lockdown at the money bin and being guarded by Gizmoduck, Lil Bulb, and Gyro. He wasn’t taking any chances.  
  
The group fanned out and he glimpsed, for half a second, Lena in Webby’s shadow. Webby didn’t notice, however. The other Webby, the younger one, was scanning the area nervously, as well she might. He sensed dark magic afoot. Of course, as it was Magica, all magic was bound to be dark, but this felt particularly malicious. His feathers stood on end and he glanced over at the boys; Huey was consulting the JWG and talking to himself. Dewey was consoling Webby and Louie stepped closer to Scrooge. His hands were in his hoodie pocket and his hoodie was up. Everything in his body language bespoke wariness.  
  
“Think she knows we’re here?” Webby 2 asked, her tremulous voice nonetheless carrying in the acrid air. Mount Vesuvius hadn’t erupted for fifteen years, yet there were ash and soot everywhere, as well as a tainted smell that burned his nostrils.  
  
“Aye, lass,” the other Scrooge replied.  
  
“She knows we’re here,” Scrooge 1 said, keeping the bite out of his voice by extreme effort. “They both do.”  
  
He still couldn’t believe his counterpart had a soft spot for Magica. Was she not noxious and evil in his world? Besides the fact that he wasn’t as wealthy as him, he also seemed more gullible and prone to weakness. Scrooge rolled his eyes at him and then advanced, keeping his eyes peeled for traps. Heading towards her house was too easy. She had to have a trick up her sleeve.  
  
Scrooge knew that the only reason Magica had any juice was that the other Magica had given it to her. Mount Vesuvius was the magical equivalent of a hot spot too, but she wouldn’t have been able to avail herself of it given the injuries Webby had inflicted. At the thought, he glanced over at Webbigail, who looked determined but also uneasy. The other Scrooge was holding his Webby’s hand and although Scrooge 1’s Webby was older and also made of stronger stuff than her counterpart, he wondered how safe she really was in his company. The incident on the Sunchaser with Dewey was still fresh in his mind.  
  
“Anyone else think this is too easy?” Huey asked just as a maze sprang up around them. It was made of gold, probably imitation, but no less solid for that. He whirled around, finding himself in a dead end. The boys, Webby, and the two inhabitants from the other dimension were nowhere to be seen. If this was a trap, as he’d suspected, then the targets would be himself and Webby primarily. His heart jumped into his throat. Webby could protect herself from one enraged sorceress, but two?  
  
And this was different. Magica had only been trying to prevent them from extracting him from the dime and saving him. Now Magica was out for blood. It did unsettle him, though, because she’d been ruthless when it came to defending what was hers before. If she’d been holding back, he hadn’t noticed. However, if she had held back or at least been unfocused on who she hurt and how she hurt them, she wouldn’t be now.  
  
He advanced out of his cul-de-sac and toward the only route available to him. Standing on the side of the broad alley was a face he’d never expected to see again. His heart lurched and he fell to his knees.  
  
“Della?” he exclaimed.  
  
Della’s smile was sad and her eyes were cold. Scrooge’s heart clenched; she’d never looked at him like that, like he was the engineer of her fate. She moved away from the wall and approached him. He tensed. Della couldn’t be here. Magica wouldn’t have kept her secreted away here; Della’s disappearance had transpired after Magica’s capture. True, Magica would’ve known, as she would’ve known everything that had happened while she was imprisoned. For that reason alone, he knew this was an illusion. Magica was playing his strings and he wouldn’t permit it. She probably wasn’t strong enough to face him on her own again, not yet.  
  
“No, you’re not Della,” he told her. Seeing her hurt. Regardless of whether it was an illusion, a living, breathing version of his niece after all these years struck a painful blow.  
  
“Don’t like being reminded of your mistakes, do you?” Della jeered. She sounded like herself, but there was a mocking edge to her voice. She tilted her head to regard him and her eyes flashed.  
  
“You’re the reason my boys grew up without a mother,” she said.  
  
“I…” His throat closed up. Sensing weakness, Della/Magica moved closer. She stood not a foot away from him now and poked him in the chest where the dime had dangled. He’d come here expecting a direct assault, not this. Guilt wracked him.  
  
“You’re the reason the family fractured,” she continued. “And if it hadn’t been for outside interference, you would never have been saved. Your pride will be your downfall, old man.”  
  
Scrooge waved his cane at the apparition and it went straight through. She could not be fought with, not traditionally. He would have to find a logical way to best her. The problem was that Della/Magica was appealing to his emotions and was entirely too effective at it. After being around him so long, Magica knew how he thought.  
  
“How do you think Donald feels, knowing you caused his sister’s death?” Magica continued. Scrooge opened his beak to reply and then shut it. They had no proof Della was dead, but then again, they had no proof to the contrary either.  
  
“You knew better than to build the _Spear of Selene_ ,” Magica hissed. “You knew she’d leave her eggs behind and that she had no intention of returning. You’re the reason she disappeared. Your failure to retrieve her was of your own doing.”  
  
She poked him again, harder. “You failed your family, the ones you claim to care about. You drove away the people who love you and lashed out at a little girl, and for what? To feel better about yourself? To protect yourself?”  
  
She sneered. “There’s nothing to protect. You’re a shell of a man, Scrooge McDuck.”  
  
“My family came back,” he snapped.  
  
“Della didn’t,” Magica replied with a nasty smile. “Della’s never coming back, is she, Scroogie?”  
  
It would’ve been bad enough hearing all of this from Magica’s lips, but to hear it from Della’s was unbearable. There was nowhere to run, however. All the exits had vanished, leaving him trapped in an alley with Della/Magica and no escape. He stood his ground.  
  
“I still have Donald and my grand-nephews,” he snapped at her. “They won’t leave me again. I shouldn’t have kept the secret from Huey, Dewey, and Louie and I’m sorry about that.”  
  
“But you’re not denying that Della’s death is your fault?” Magica said cruelly, digging the proverbial knife in deeper. “That in your lust for adventure, to explore what had never been explored before, you led your niece into danger that she couldn’t handle? That you facilitated her demise? That if you hadn’t taken all that money and power and influence, she would still be alive today and the triplets wouldn’t be orphans?”  
  
“They’re not orphans,” he said, picking at what he could defend. “Donald is a good uncle to them, almost like a father. And Della...Della had a choice.”  
  
It was true, he realized. He didn’t like to think about it, because he felt better absorbing the blame on himself. He had loved his niece so much that he hated to think she’d done something wrong. He was the older, more experienced adventurer. He should’ve stopped her. He’d led her into temptation and she’d disappeared because of it.  
  
“You killed her,” Magica hissed. She smiled maliciously. “And you only have yourself to blame for what happened next.”  
  
“What’s the matter? Can’t you fight me fairly?” he sneered, though he heard the hollowness in his tone.  
  
“I don’t have to,” she said, smug. “You can’t fight yourself, can you, McDuck? You’ve thought these things for years and now your chickens have finally flown home to roost.”  
  
She poked him as hard as she could, hard enough to shove him back. “Each and every one of them.”  
  
\----  
  
Webby advanced through her hall cautiously. The diffuse light came from everywhere and nowhere at once. She noticed that as it grew darker, her shadow grew bigger. Hoping to glimpse Lena, she spun around. However, what she spied wasn’t a shadow. It was Lena in the flesh and Webby sprang at her, knocking her over in her extreme enthusiasm to see her friend again.  
  
“Ow...hey,” Lena said.  
  
“How do you have a body again? What’s going on? I thought you were my shadow and now you’re not and--”  
  
Lena put a finger to Webby’s beak to stem the flow of questions. “I don’t know, but I’m suspicious. Aunt Magica doesn’t do anything without a reason. And if I have a body, then this is a trap, Webby.”  
  
“How can it be a trap?” Webby asked after gently pushing Lena’s finger away. She hugged her extra tightly and Lena hugged her back. “I finally have you back.”  
  
“And that doesn’t strike you as odd?” Lena said. “I’m sorry about your wrist, by the way.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Webby said, helping Lena to her feet. She squeezed Lena’s hand with her good one. Now that Lena had mentioned it, however, the air temperature seemed to have dropped and chills gave her goosebumps. She and Lena moved, standing back to back. Lena was tense and Webby sensed a threat, but from where, she couldn’t tell.  
  
“There are more than a few ways to be cruel,” Magica’s voice echoed and Lena’s hand tightened on Webby’s. She could feel her best friend shaking in fear and feel her pulse against her wrist. Pulse? Lena had been a shadow. She couldn’t have a pulse, not unless Lena was real now.  
  
Her stomach dropped. She didn’t like where this was going.  
  
“You can’t take her away from me,” Webby snapped.  
  
“Oh, but I can,” she said. “Technically, for all that she calls me ‘aunt’--” and here Webby could picture her moue of distaste--”she’s my offspring. I can do whatever I want to her. As the saying goes, I brought her into this world. I can take her out.”  
  
Lena had interlaced their fingers.  
  
“I’m not going to let you hurt her, Aunt Magica,” Lena snapped.  
  
“You’re a shadow,” Magica said and Webby could hear her roll her eyes. “You can’t tell me what to do. And for God’s sake, stop saying ‘Aunt Magica’. I’m no more your aunt than that girl has a family.”  
  
Webby flinched but held herself straight and proud. “I do have a family.”  
  
Magica appeared in the flesh; she glided down from an unseen ceiling and stood before them. With a swing of her staff, she aimed a magical bolt straight at Lena. Webby grabbed her, flinging her out of the way before the shot connected. Webby stood protectively in front of Lena.  
  
“You’re not taking her away from me again,” Webby snapped.  
  
“You’re pathetic,” Magica informed her. “You’re mooning over a  _shadow_.”  
  
Lena shot her an indecipherable look and Webby shrugged. Another two bolts came, this time aimed at both of them, and Webby tried to dodge one and shield Lena from the other. It didn’t work. The second bolt struck home at Lena’s ankle and where it had hit, her form grew insubstantial again. Webby’s heart was in her throat.  
  
Lena pushed herself to her feet and fell over. The shadow foot would not hold her weight.  
  
“I’m going to make her disappear, bit by bit, while you watch,” Magica informed her. “Then I will destroy her again, this time for good.”  
  
Webby growled, launching herself at Magica. She dodged another couple bolts; she couldn’t protect Lena and attack Magica simultaneously, so she settled for distracting the sorceress. She aimed a kick for Magica’s ribs, which she knew must’ve been recently healed, and feinted left. Magica fell for it and she kicked her in the chest so hard that the older duck fell backward, her next shot going wild and disappearing into the air.  
  
Webby rained kicks and punches down on Magica, who swept at her with her staff but couldn’t connect. She couldn’t aim properly with Webby on her neck and Lena dove at Magica’s stomach. Magica’s next attack raked the teenager’s back and left her shadowy halfway through her body. Lena could stand, albeit on her right foot, but she was transparent. Despair swamped Webby.  
  
“Leave my best friend alone,” she snapped. “Get a life!”  
  
“Lena is a traitor,” Magica hissed. “She deserves what she gets. As do you.”  
  
Webby had to jump and skidded across the suddenly uneven surface. It appeared that one of Magica’s shots hadn’t gone wide at all. It’d converted the ground into mush, where it was hard to gain traction. Magica was floating, so she needn’t worry about it.  
  
“She’s a traitor for wanting her own life? For not wanting to be your shadow?” Webby countered. “For having different ideas and wanting to belong?”  
  
“That’s exactly it, yes,” she said and slammed her staff down. The ground rose up and latched onto Webby’s legs. She tugged them free, but not before Magica’s staff hit her in the head. Lena snarled, grabbing the staff from her, and told Magica what exactly she could do to herself.  
  
“Oh, that’s polite,” Magica sniffed. “Where did you learn such language?”  
  
“From you,” Lena said and smirked.  
  
“You look like you could use some help,” an unfamiliar voice said and Webby whirled. The movement knocked her off balance and she landed in the mud with her chest stuck. Groaning, she shifted her head so at least she didn’t suffocate.  
  
“All right, fine,” Magica huffed. “You can take Lena. I want Webby to myself.”  
  
She kicked Webby into the mud and Webby managed, with supreme difficulty, to extract an arm to haul Magica down with her. She wasn’t going down without a fight.  
  
She tried to remember everything Granny had taught her about escaping quicksand, which was what this appeared to be. The important thing was not to panic. Webby had that down. Of course, in Granny’s hypothetical example, Webby hadn’t been trying to evade Magica at the same time. She lay back and let herself sink slightly, with the quicksand distributing her weight. Magica snorted and reached into quicksand, all the while avoiding it herself, and extricated Webby. If Webby had thought this was a gesture of kindness on Magica’s part, which she wouldn’t have anyway, that notion was dispelled by Magica’s grip tightening around her throat. She watched Webby squirm with an amused expression on her face.  
  
“Webby!” Lena cried, her voice tinny in Webby’s ears. Webby struggled, elbowing Magica in the ribs. Magica growled, but the additional pain added an impetus to Magica’s rage and her grip tightened. Webby saw spots before her eyes.  
  
“Well, even if my illusion doesn’t break Scrooge, this will,” Magica said smugly. “Poor little dead Webbigail.”  
  
Webby gritted her teeth and lowered her head. Her kick caught Magica in the chest and she felt something crack. Magica healed herself, however, before any real damage could be done. Hmm...but could she strangle her with only one hand? Of course, that wasn’t something she could give much thought to, considering how her vision was flickering in and out.  
  
The grip loosened and Magica stumbled back. Webby’s vision filled in enough for her to see Lena had punched Magica in the face. It gave Webby the few seconds she needed to get her good hand up and under Magica and free herself from the chokehold.  
  
She meant to say something pithy, but her throat was raw and she coughed instead. The other Magica aimed a blast for Lena and Lena rolled away from it, although she was more shadow than substance now. Webby dodged the next blast and it struck her Magica right in chest. Lena disappeared, however, in the aftermath.  
  
“You! Aim for her, not me!” Magica snarled, wiping blood off her lips. How hard had Lena hit her?  
  
And where had Lena vanished to? Webby swept Magica’s feet out from under her and the other Magica countered by shoving her against the wall with the staff glowing against her face.  
  
“You are hard to kill,” the other Magica said, sounding impressed. “But everyone dies, sooner or later.”  
  
Webby propelled herself up and over both Magicas, bounced off the wall, and then slammed their heads together. She cared more about where Lena had gone, however, than about defeating Magica. She had a horrible sinking sensation that told her Lena might just be gone for good this time. It brought tears to her eyes and bitter rage.  
  
“Where is she?” she demanded. Her free hand trembled and she was swallowing past a lump in her throat.  
  
“She went back to where she belonged,” Magica said serenely. “Where all good little traitors go, to the underworld. Why, did you miss her? Did you not get to say your goodbyes? Poor little Webby.”  
  
She couldn’t believe this. She wouldn’t believe this. She had not come so far, lost Lena only to regain her and then possibly lose her again. She wouldn’t accept it. Eyes flashing with a look that would’ve sent the triplets scurrying for cover, she rounded on the two Magicas. Two against one weren’t fair odds. But then, Webby wasn’t fighting fair anymore.  
  
\----  
  
Webby 2 was alone in a dark room and she hugged herself. She’d experimented with leaving the doll behind, so she had nothing latch onto but her arms. Rubbing them, she ignored the goosebumps and cast a glance around. There was nothing to see. No one else appeared to be here.  
  
“Hello?” she asked. “Magica?”  
  
An odd glow materialized and she saw, to her consternation, the mirror. Framed in it were her triplets, Scrooge, and her grammy. How had this gotten here? At least the mirror appeared whole, but there was something sinister about it. Back at the mansion, the mirror had been an inanimate object and nothing more. Here, it exuded malice.  
  
  
“Hello?” she ventured again and placed her palm against the glass. It was cold to the touch and impermeable. Unnerved, she stepped back a smidgen, but kept her hand in contact with it. The triplets eyed her coldly and Mrs. Beakley and Scrooge looked none too pleased either.  
  
“Uncle Scrooge?” she ventured. “Grammy?”  
  
“I told you if we didn’t do something, she’d think she could come back,” Louie scoffed.  
  
“Aye, that you did,” Scrooge said, glowering at her. Webby, disused to such animosity on his face, faltered. He swung his cane but, before the blow could connect, Webby dashed forward. Rather than colliding with the mirror, she passed through it and into nothingness. She hadn’t traveled to the other side. She was trapped in limbo.  
  
Whimpering, she stared at nothing in the pitch dark.  
  
“What’s going on?” she demanded.  
  
Nothing. The silence pressed against her ears and it hurt, like someone clapping hands over her head. Webby found she couldn’t move and her whole body had gone rigid. Her heart raced.  
  
“Hello?” she called again. “Is anyone here?”  
  
Oh, she didn’t like to be alone. She also wasn’t a big fan of the dark, but that was beside the point. When she stopped speaking, the silence grew oppressive. She ran through what had just happened. Louie had told her that they didn’t want her back and then Uncle Scrooge had broken the mirror, but she’d run through it first. And gone where? That she couldn’t answer.  
  
She shivered. Was this what it was like to be a shadow? Only capable of moving her head, she scanned the darkness.  
  
“Uncle Scrooge? Grammy? Huey? Dewey? Louie?” she called and their names fell away into nothingness. “Other me? Anyone?”  
  
It felt like something was slowly crushing her. It was getting harder to breathe and she felt invisible hands on her throat. Webby wanted to claw at them, but she couldn’t move her arms. Her whimper sounded only in her head. She was losing her voice, losing her body, and disappearing. Soon it would be like she never existed.  
  
“She was always so annoying,” Dewey said. She could hear his voice but see nothing. “I’m so glad she’s gone.”  
  
“Yeah, she was really cramping our style,” Huey added.  
  
“Unca Scrooge doesn’t even miss her, do you, Unca?” Louie asked.  
  
“Miss the free labor? I sure do. But miss Webbigail?” he sneered. “Not a chance.”  
  
“I’m too old to raise another child,” her grandmother said. “Especially such a disobedient one.”  
  
Webby tried to reply, but she couldn’t think, either. All she could do was stand there in horror as the pressure increased and the ones she cared about and loved from her universe disparaged her.  
  
“You’re like her, aren’t you?”  
  
That voice was not from her universe and Webby started, discovering she could turn her head again. Her beak opened. Whatever the other girl had done, it had broken the spell Magica must’ve cast over her.  
  
“You’re...you’re Lena, right?” she whispered.  
  
“Yeah, you’re girly and you’re a wimp compared to my Webby,” Lena said and there was pride in her voice. “But you have a good heart.”  
  
Webby saw a vague outline in the darkness. It was the first thing she’d seen since the mirror deposited her here and she took courage from it. True, it was faintly green and luminescent.  
  
“And I guess if I do this, maybe you can help my Webby find a more permanent way to keep me here,” Lena continued. “So don’t read too much into it, okay?”  
  
If a shadow could be embarrassed, Lena certainly sounded that way. Maybe Lena didn’t want to be seen having a soft spot for someone who wasn’t her Webby. Regardless, Webby was grateful and a little guilty. She was having more interaction with Lena than Webby 1, whom Lena actually cared about.  
  
“So, hold on,” she advised, as though Webby had something to hold on to. Lena touched her arm and the world around her exploded into light. Lena vanished again, barely perceptible, and returned to Webby’s side as her shadow. Had she used her strength to rescue her? Webby was touched.  
  
And about to become a magical pile of ash. She rolled away as one of the Magicas, she couldn’t tell which one because she couldn’t afford to look up, aimed a blow at her that would’ve disintegrated her.  
  
“Lena?” Webby 1 asked. Her expression was pinched, like she was suppressing tears.  
  
“Later,” she promised.  
  
Webby 1’s beak was tight, but she nodded. They had more important things to consider right now. For example, both Magicas looked like they were out for blood. Webby 2 might not be capable of the same combat skills, but she could help, she thought. Or, at least, act as bait.  
  
“You only fixed the mirror so you could go through it!” Webby 2 accused.  
  
“To borrow phrase from my counterpart, ‘duh’,” she said.  
  
“You betrayed Uncle Scrooge’s trust!” she continued.  
  
“You’re even more daft than the one who broke my ribs and that’s saying something,” Magica 1 scoffed. “Did you really expect not to be betrayed?”  
  
“Well, no…” Webby 2 admitted, abashed. Seeing as the attention was on Webby 2, Webby 1 crept around the back of the two Magicas and kicked them both over. They collided, smacking foreheads, and groaned. They rubbed their foreheads and glowered at each other.  
  
“Enough!” Magica 2 snarled and held up her staff. The two Webbys froze like they’d become statues. “That’s better. Why didn’t you think of that before?”  
  
“I was too busy getting wailed on again,” Magica 1 snapped back. “But now…”  
  
She smiled, advancing on Webby 1. “I can finally kill you.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see Scrooge 2 and the boys' fears, as well as come up with a game plan on how to rescue both Webbys from their current predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to come up with suitably depressing things for their fears. I was originally going to use Della a third time, for the boys, but I figured that was overkill. So I used Donald instead.
> 
> Also, sorry for forgetting earlier in the fic that Donald did return, on a limited basis, in the original. But he was in there so seldom that it’s easy for me to forget, to be honest. And no one corrected me, so…*shrugs*

Scrooge 2 was wandering in the maze without much purpose or direction. He wasn’t sure where he was going and all the corridors led to dead ends. He couldn’t see the boys, the other Scrooge, or the Webbys, for that matter, and it was making him anxious. He didn’t know where they could’ve gotten off to and he was already apprehensive of what Magica might have in mind.  
  
Hearing footsteps behind him from a dead-end caused his feathers to stand on end, he whirled to face the threat. However, there was no one there. Instead, there was a gravestone and three broken shells, large enough to house ducklings. Bewildered and more than a little perturbed, he knelt down at the gravesite. It was his niece, Della, except the dates were wrong. The date of her death read as shortly before the boys were hatched...and the boys’ names were written beneath it, along with their birth and death dates.  
  
“But they didn’t die…” he protested to no one in particular. Someone cleared their throat and he whirled again, almost losing his balance given how fast he was turning. Della floated there, incorporeal and translucent. Beside her floated the ghost of three hatchlings and his heart lurched.  
  
“They did,” Della whispered and her voice, though faint, tugged at his heart. “They died a week after I did and I never got to see them hatch…”  
  
“They didn’t die!” he said. “I know they’re not here, but they’re back on the other side of the mirror. They’re fine.”  
  
Della shook her head sadly. “Lewellyn held out the longest, but Hubert and Dewford died before they hatched. They were stillborns.”  
  
“No!” he said. “They’re alive and well and I can prove it, just let me near the mirror!”  
  
“There is no mirror, Uncle Scrooge,” she said and drifted closer to him. The wind of her passing made him shiver. “There never was. You only dreamt there was. No one came to live with you after I died and Donald stopped talking to you. You never had any other family who wanted anything to do with you. You’re alone, Uncle Scrooge. There’s no one here who cares for you.”  
  
“That’s not true!” he responded, slamming his cane against the ground. “My wee little Webbigail is here, somewhere in this maze, and I didn’t come all this way for her not to be there!”  
  
“There is no Webbigail,” Della said. “You created her out of your desperate desire not to be alone. There never was.”  
  
“There is!” he insisted. “You’re just a trick, a spell from Magica!”  
  
“Magica’s not here,” Della insisted. “Do you see her? I don’t. Then again, I suppose I don’t really see anything anymore.”  
  
Scrooge’s mouth dried out. He recalled how she’d perished, falling from a steep height and onto the jagged rocks beneath. They’d moved, but not quickly enough, as they’d been fending off cutthroats at the time. By the time they’d heard Della scream, it was too late. Her scream haunted his nightmares sometimes.  
  
“Come along, boys,” Della whispered. “Leave the old man to his grief.”  
  
“They’re alive!” he repeated and felt like he was going mad, repeating himself to no avail. Della and the boys vanished into thin air, leaving him with the gravestone. Although Della and the boys were insubstantial, the stone was solid and covered in moss. Someone had left rocks and flowers atop it. Donald might have forgiven him for losing Della, but they still hadn’t spoken much since her death. Some things numbed relationships. Donald had turned to Scrooge because he felt he was the only one he could trust to watch the kids, but that didn’t mean he liked him, necessarily.  
  
He juxtaposed the memory of the triplets with the gravestone and the broken eggs. No. It wasn’t true. No. Feh, it was all smoke and mirrors. The only problem was that confronted with physical evidence to the contrary, his stomach clenched and he was helpless to fight nausea. No, he couldn’t prove that the triplets were all right. He’d thought he’d know if something had befallen them, but he hadn’t known what had happened to Webby on the other side of the mirror. And he hadn’t known Della was in danger until it was too late.  
  
He soldiered on, a way opening before him, and the darkness grew, shrouding his path. Della’s scream echoed in his ears and he kept seeing her fall. No matter what he tried, he was never in time.  
  
Stumbling, he tripped over a figure lying prostrate on the ground. It was the other Scrooge, who was staring up at Della, his face a mask of pain and trauma. Scrooge 2 halted, the previous incident crashing in on him. He stumbled backward; the other Scrooge looked up at him and whatever spell had been cast over him was broken now. He stood, retreating with his counterpart.  
  
“Della for you too?” Scrooge 1 murmured.  
  
“Aye,” Scrooge 2 confirmed. “And the boys, stillborn.”  
  
Scrooge 1 flinched and then looked around, as if suddenly realizing that his grand-nephews were nowhere in sight. A pathway opened up before them and they bolted down it. Even though knowing they weren’t his grand-nephews, Scrooge 2 needed to see them, needed to confirm that some part of Della had survived in at least one universe.  
  
“The boys!” Scrooge 1 cried in dismay. He slowed. “Have you seen Webbigail?”  
  
“No…”  
  
Not ordinarily one to curse, but aware that he was in the presence of another adult, one who would understand his plight, Scrooge 2 cursed softly.  
  
“We don’t even know where they are,” Scrooge 1 remarked. “How do we know if we’re going in the right direction? We can’t stay still, but…”  
  
Scrooge 2 understood what he was getting at. He nodded and they started off going east, the only corridor open to them. Other than their movement, the maze was deadly silent. Anything could be happening to the others and they would have no idea. The thought increased the nausea until he had to swallow back bile.  
  
The worst part was that Scrooge 2 couldn’t be sure whether the screams he heard were real or in his head. Scrooge 1 showed no sign of hearing them, but then again, he couldn’t be certain that Della 1 had perished in the same way. Clearly, she was missing, because otherwise, the figment wouldn’t have had such an impact.  
  
He didn’t want to ask; he considered the subject too sensitive to tread up lightly. He found himself wishing that the mirror was hand-sized instead of wall-length. At least then he could confirm that the boys were alive and well. The sight of the empty eggs and the boys’ ghosts had really shaken him up.  
  
“They’re all right, you know,” Scrooge 1 murmured as they pelted down a corridor. He squeezed Scrooge 2’s shoulder. “They’re at home and waiting for you to return with your Webbigail.”  
  
Scrooge 2 couldn’t quite manage a smile, but he nodded in appreciation.  
  
“Now, whether we can find the Webbigails in time is another matter…” Scrooge 1 grimaced. “If I know my Magica and believe me, I do, all too well, the first thing she’ll want to do is exact revenge against Webby.”  
  
\--------  
  
“It’s another dead-end,” Huey said, frowning. “But that doesn’t make sense. I’ve mapped it out so far and this should’ve led somewhere.”  
  
“At least we didn’t appoint Captain Lost to keep us from getting lost,” Dewey commented and Louie huffed, folding his arms across his chest. By all accounts, Huey was right. They’d even left leaves behind to mark their trail and those had disappeared without a trace. They’d been pulling leaves off the random vines in this section of the maze. They also hadn’t heard or seen anyone else.  
  
“We should’ve run into someone else by now,” Huey continued.  
  
“Other than ourselves, you mean,” Louie said.  
  
“Or at least heard someone else,” Huey replied. “How can we be isolated?”  
  
“How can we keep running into dead-ends?” Dewey pointed out.  
  
“Wait…” Huey said. They spun around and, one hundred and eighty degrees from where they’d stood, a path had opened up. It had a glowing light at the end.  
  
“Either this is the way out or we’re all about to die,” Louie said.  
  
With that particular inauspicious comment, they headed for the light. It was blinding, causing all three boys to cover their eyes. When they halted, they found themselves in the middle of the maze, with a fountain spraying water and their uncle Donald standing beside it. Since he hadn’t come with them, they were at a loss. As far as they knew, he ought to be back in Duckberg.  
  
“Uncle Donald?” Huey asked, incredulous.  
  
“Boys?” he said.  
  
“Uh, have you seen Uncle Scrooge? Or Webby? Either Webby?” Dewey asked.  
  
“How did you get here, anyway?” Huey asked.  
  
“What do you mean?” Donald asked. “I’ve always been here.”  
  
“Here, at the exact center of the maze. That seems a little hard to believe,” Huey said.  
  
“Well, it’s true,” he said and cocked his head at him. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving.”  
  
“O-kay…” Louie said. “I don’t see how you’re leaving when none of us can get out of this maze, but okay.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I’m joining the navy. I won’t be back and I just wanted to tell you boys to be good, because I don’t know when I’m returning. If I am.”  
  
“You can’t be leaving,” Dewey objected. “You can’t.”  
  
“Why would you wait until now to tell us?” Louie said. It felt like someone had squeezed his heart and then it’d burst like an overripe fruit. His chest ached and he swallowed past a lump in his throat. It was like when Dewey had kept the secret of what he and Webby had been doing to figure out what had happened to their mother. He didn’t want to cry nor did he want to believe this. Huey was right. How had Donald ended up in the center of the maze?  
  
“I ran out of time,” Donald said. “I’m sorry, boys. Be good.”  
  
Huey looked up and rather than a ceiling, there was a starry night above them, as well as the Sunchaser. It hovered and Louie followed his gaze. While Louie was mildly impressed Launchpad knew how to hover without crashing, it was outweighed by the dismay he felt. He struggled to think of something to say.  
  
“No...that’s what the other Webby said happened to you,” Dewey said. “But you can’t go.”  
  
“I have to,” he responded. “My first mission is working with NASA to pilot through cosmic storms.”  
  
Louie felt like his ripped out heart had seized and then someone had begun jumping up and down on the shreds. That was how they’d lost Mom.  
  
“No!” he screamed, the cry torn loose from his throat. “You can’t go. We won’t let you!”  
  
A rope ladder appeared and Donald headed for it. Louie grabbed his arm.  
  
“You can’t go,” he pleaded. “That’s how...that’s how Mom disappeared. You can’t leave us. You’re the closest thing we have to--to--”  
  
A parent. If anything, he was like their father. Donald shrugged off Louie’s arm and his brothers latched onto Donald too.  
  
“The odds of you being able to pilot through it when Mom couldn’t are pretty low,” Huey said. “You can’t go. You don’t even have any training. Why would they send you?”  
  
“Because I volunteered,” Donald informed him. “You boys have your Uncle Scrooge. You don’t need me anymore.”  
  
“That’s not true!” they protested. They’d always need him. They’d always want him. How could he even think of abandoning them like this? Louie’s vision blurred with tears.  
  
“We’ll always need you,” Louie muttered, aware that the sentiment was making him appear weak, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything to make their uncle stay. Anything. Even if it cost him something in return. And that was saying a lot because spending money or losing things was like losing a part of himself.  
  
“No, you don’t,” Donald snapped and flung the three of them back and away from him. He threw himself at the ladder and, desperate, the boys started scaling it. Donald kicked at them, which in the back of his mind Louie knew he’d never do. He was too busy, however, being gripped by the terror that Donald leaving inflicted.  
  
Donald reached the top and threw the ladder back down to the ground. They scrambled, landing hard on the fountain, as the Sunchaser flew out of sight and into the distance. Louie thought he might be sick. Donald had left without even saying goodbye. He had no idea how the navy worked or how long Donald might be gone. The way he’d said it, he might end up in the same predicament as their mom. Then he’d never come home.  
  
He climbed, shaky, down from the fountain and hugged his knees. He was crying and he couldn’t stop. Huey and Dewey approached him. Dewey put a hand on his shoulder and then hugged him.  
  
“That can’t have been him,” Huey reasoned. “He’d never hurt us like that. He’d never leave without telling us beforehand. And he’d never be so callous.”  
  
“Sure sounded like him,” Dewey said. “And looked like him. And the other Webby said…”  
  
Huey faltered, about to come up with an answer, but the words died in his mouth. Louie clenched his eyes shut as if he could erase the image of Donald on the rope ladder from his mind. He was shaking. Donald was leaving them, just like their mother had left them. The need for adventure and to be away from the triplets had driven him away, just like Della. He pulled the hood over his head.  
  
“This is a magical maze, right?” Huey said quietly, subdued in light of his brothers’ misery. Louie couldn’t see his face, but he sounded unhappy too. As well as he might be, given the facts of the situation.  
  
“So, Magica must’ve cooked this up for us,” Huey continued.  
  
“But how would she have known that Donald joined the navy in the alternate universe?” Louie countered.  
  
“Unless it wasn’t our Magica,” Huey said.  
  
Searing hatred for Magica replaced the sorrow. He jumped to his feet, so suddenly that Dewey toppled over into him and they both fell over. Heh, oops.  
  
“I can’t believe she’d use our fears against us,” Louie raged.  
  
“She’s evil,” Huey said in a tone that indicated “what do you expect?”  
  
“But if that’s our fears and she wasn’t even here for that, then...where is she? And where is the other Magica, our Magica?” Dewey asked.  
  
“Webby!” the boys cried in unison, simultaneously struck by the horror of the situation. If they’d separated everyone, then Webby 1 had to be on Magica’s hit list, probably number one. Louie scrubbed at his eyes.  
  
“Boys!” Scrooge 1 called and they looked up, Louie still rubbing at his eyes to eradicate the tears. While he knew logically that this must’ve been Magica’s doing, he was haunted by the thought of Donald leaving them for good. He wanted to run to his uncle and hug him for all he was worth and then some.  
  
What had formerly been a dead end opened up and the two Scrooges came rushing in.  
  
“Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?” Scrooge 1 pressed.  
  
“Just emotionally,” Louie muttered. Scrooge 1 stopped in front of him and hugged him, taking Louie by surprise. He reciprocated, though, and the other two boys joined in on it. Louie could feel himself shaking with suppressed sobs.  
  
“We’re going to give Magica a piece of our minds when we find her,” Scrooge 1 said. “Don’t you worry, lads.”  
  
“But we have to find her first,” Scrooge 2 said, scowling. “The maze seems to be altering according to where their attention is. That means the hardest part to reach will be where Webbigail is.”  
  
“She wouldn’t want us to show up too early,” Scrooge 1 agreed. “And spoil her fun.”  
  
His eyes narrowed. “Or to prevent her from doing serious harm to Webby.”  
  
Scrooge 2’s frown deepened. “She wouldn’t seriously hurt a wee one, would she?”  
  
“She’d kill Webbigail if given the chance,” Scrooge 1 said and his expression was hard and determined. “We need to find her before then.”  
  
“But how?” Huey asked.  
  
“Again, if I know Magica de Spell, which I unfortunately do, we lure her in using me lucky dime. And since only one of us was stupid enough to keep wearing it…” Scrooge 1 shot his counterpart a dirty look. “That’ll be your job.”  
  
“So, what, you want me to wave it in the air and she’ll scent it like a bloodhound?” Scrooge 2 asked.  
  
“That’s the best plan you’ve got?” Louie asked.  
  
“The maze isn’t going to let us rescue Webby unless we force it,” Huey said. “And it’s the only plan we’ve got.”  
  
“All right, here goes nothing,” Scrooge 2 said. He pulled his dime’s necklace out of his shirt and held it up. “Magica de Spell, wherever you are, here you are. It’s me lucky dime and it’s all yours if you bring us Webbigail, both Webbigails, safe and unharmed.”  
  
They waited with bated breath. Would the Magicas be so arrogant and naive to fall for it? Louie didn’t think so, but he also knew never to underestimate just how gullible people could be. And...it was their only hope now.  
  
 _Please be okay, Webs_ , he thought.  _We can’t lose you too._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dramatic final climax! Who will triumph? Who will go home crying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review (I know, I know, don't be ridiculous). This is the second to last chapter--next up is the epilogue.

“Wait, you would kill a child?” Magica 2 said, frowning. “Is a troublemaker, true, but killing seems rather permanent.”  
  
“Of course it’s permanent,” Magica 1 sneered. “I wouldn’t want her to escape and bother me again. The only good duckling is a dead duckling.”  
  
Webby’s eyes, which were the only part of her body, she could move, slid from one Magica to the other. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she was with Magica 2. She couldn’t open her mouth and she glanced over at Webby 2, who might’ve been paralyzed with fright regardless. She was whimpering through her closed beak.  
  
“Now, where was I?” Magica 1 mused, prodding Webby’s chin with her staff. She hoisted Webby into the air with magic. A feral, cat-like smile crossed her beak and she used her staff to fling Webby 1 bodily into the wall. Before she connected, Magica 2 interfered, keeping her from colliding and possibly breaking her back on the concrete. She lowered her to the ground.  
  
“What do you think you’re doing?” Magica 1 demanded, incensed. “I am going to kill her!”  
  
“Children are off-limits,” Magica 2 said, scowling. “You want to kill Scrooge, then be my guest. But his brats are not part of this.”  
  
Magica 1 cursed an impressive amount and Webby’s eyes bulged. She saw the shock mirrored in her counterpart’s eyes. That...was a sentence that was never going on a kids’ TV show. Webby tried to struggle, but she remained locked in place. She would’ve cursed too if she could have.  
  
And if she weren’t positive that somehow, somewhere, her granny would hear.  
  
“You’re getting in my way,” Magica 1 informed her and wielded her staff like a weapon. She aimed a blast for Magica 2, who moved away before it connected and a hole appeared in the wall. Webby screamed through her closed beak and hoped someone might hear her. It was hard to direct a sound when you couldn’t open your mouth.  
  
“Shut up!” Magica 1 snapped. Webby collapsed to the ground, as Magica 1’s attention was on her counterpart. The breath was knocked out of her and she could tell that the other Webby wanted to ask how she was, but she still couldn’t move. Until Magica 1 broke the spell holding them frozen in place, neither one of them could call for help.  
  
Magica 1 halted suddenly, sniffing like a bloodhound with a scent. Magica 2 stopped as well, about to parry a blast that never came.  
  
“Is that Scrooge’s number one dime I spy in the distance?” Magica 1 asked, her eyes gleaming with avarice. She weighed the options, glancing from Webby to the dime and then back. Webby 1 could barely breathe--it felt like someone had dumped a weight on her chest. She tried screaming Scrooge’s name, but through a clenched beak, it was unintelligible.  
  
“Webby!” the boys cried and started toward her. Magica scoffed, mending the broken wall, and glanced over at Webby 1.  
  
“Oh, well, I can always take the dime after I kill you,” she said, shrugging.  
  
Webby 1 felt her hopes wither and die, but...a small part of her held out for the boys to rescue her. Of course, the fact that she needed rescuing at all rankled her and she fought harder against whatever spell Magica had placed on her.  
  
The sound of a grappling hook startled her. Magica 1 snarled and then roared in fury when Magica 2 decided to hop onto a broom and fly over the wall. Evidently, Scrooge’s number one held much more appeal than preventing Magica 1 from murdering an innocent child. Webby didn’t know how to feel about that.  
  
When Magica 1 gave chase, the spell holding the girls broke and they sagged onto the ground.  
  
“I thought she was going to kill us,” Webby 2 said in a hoarse voice. “No offense, but I want to go home now.”  
  
“None taken,” Webby 1 gasped, shuddering at the close call. She glanced at the wall, where the hole had been, and then heard yelling. Now that Magica had opened the way, regardless of whether they could climb the wall (which they couldn’t since it was a smooth concrete structure), they weren’t isolated anymore. Webby 1 waited for her breathing to return to normal and looked for something to vault herself over. Did she have her grappling hook on her?  
  
Reaching into her backpack, she pulled both her grappling hook and her heat-seeking goggles. Bingo. She pushed herself to her feet, offered a hand to Webby 2, and assessed the wall to decide the best place to shoot the hook. Webby 2 looked baffled.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked.  
  
“No time, just trust me,” she said. “I am you. From another dimension. Come on.”  
  
Webby 2, albeit reluctantly, offered her a hand and Webby 1 pulled her into her, She shot the grappling hook onto the top of the wall and then, before they crashed, she swung them up and over. They landed in a sprawl, Webby 1 on her feet but Webby 2, clumsier, on her back. Webby 1 helped her up wordlessly and they pelted down the corridor to where the two Scrooges and the boys were waiting, as were the two Magicas, who were circling the group like a shark scenting blood in the water.  
  
“Oh, look, our company’s here,” Magica 1 said dismissively. She aimed a blast for Scrooge 2’s number one dime, which he was holding up, and Webby 1 launched herself at her and kicked her in the head. Magica 1, not expecting the attack, crumpled and then snarled, rounding on the duckling. Her eyes narrowed.  
  
“You. Little,” Magica snapped and then grated out a word that would’ve gotten Webby 1 in a lot of trouble if she’d ever uttered it in front of an adult. She snarled, rounding on Webby 1, who jumped out of the way of another blast.  
  
“Okay, we got them here, now what?” Huey asked. “Because I’m not seeing a way out of this maze.”  
  
“You get the dime,” Magica 1 growled as successive blasts kept missing Webby 1 and going wildly astray, breaking chunks off the maze walls. Webby 1’s beak curved, contemplative. This could work. She wished she could telepathically communicate to them how they could break their way out of the maze. She also wished she knew a way...oh, but she did. She grinned.  
  
“Guys, let her attack me!” Webby 1 said.  
  
“Are you crazy? Why would we let her do that?” Dewey said and tripped Magica 1, who snarled and rounded on them.  
  
“I have a plan,” Webby 1 said.  
  
“And that plan involves being bait?” Dewey asked, incredulous.  
  
“Trust me,” she repeated.  
  
In her plan, however, she had failed to account for one person. Webby 2. Magica 1 grabbed her and held her up in front of her like a human shield. Webby 2 struggled and Magica just grinned, stroking the feathers on her head.  
  
“Give me the dime and I’ll give her back,” Magica 1 said sweetly.  
  
“Yeah, right,” Dewey said. “You’ll probably kill her as soon as we do.”  
  
Magica 1 shrugged, as if a child’s life meant nothing to her. It probably didn’t. Magica 2 blasted her, being careful not to hit Webby 2, and Magica lost her grip on both child and staff. She rolled, hitting the wall. Webby 1’s plan could be salvaged. She was excited about that, although not so excited she was losing focus.  
  
If she could convince the two Magicas to attack each other, they could knock themselves out and destroy the walls surrounding them in the process. That ought to be enough for them to escape or at least find the exit.  
  
Louie pulled Webby 2 out of the path of a rampaging Magica 1, who was out for blood.  
  
“What’s your plan?!” Webby 2 shrieked, shaking in terror.  
  
“Oh, this is pretty much it,” Webby 1 said, watching as the two Magicas duked it out. Every time one of their gazes drifted to the dime, the other one took the initiative and attacked her. They blasted a hole through the wall, large enough for the others to flee through, and Webby didn’t hesitate. She beckoned for them all to follow her; both Magicas were too preoccupied to notice that their quarry was escaping.  
  
“Magica won’t be controlling the exits anymore because she’s too focused on fighting herself,” Webby 1 stated. “That means that the true exit should reveal itself soon enough.”  
  
They skidded next to a fountain in the next corridor over. Webby 1 could hear Magica swearing and threatening herself. It would’ve been amusing if they weren’t in mortal peril. Webby 1 knew that the instant one of them was defeated, the other one would either go after her or after Scrooge’s number one dime. Or both, depending on which Magica survived. She shuddered and so almost didn’t notice the boys flinching at the sight of the fountain.  
  
“Guys?” she asked.  
  
“Talk later,” Louie said. “Run now.”  
  
They pelted down another corridor, took a right, and wound up in front of a small grave. Perplexed, Webby 1 glanced at the others. Scrooge 2 cringed this time and she read the inscription quickly. “Here lies Della Duck and her sons…”  
  
“We don’t have time for this!” Scrooge 1 complained, although his voice was softer than it might’ve been. Scrooge 2 shook himself out of it, albeit with some difficulty, and they continued along the maze. There were dead-ends, but precious few of them. It looked like the dead-ends had been manufactured by the Magicas as a means of preventing them from reaching each other.  
  
It was several minutes before Webby 1 realized that the sounds of fighting had ceased.  
  
“Guys?” she said. “I don’t hear anything.”  
  
“Maybe they knocked each other out?” Dewey asked, hopeful.  
  
“We’re not that lucky,” Louie replied.  
  
“So, which one won?” Huey asked.  
  
“Let’s not stay and find out!” Scrooge 1 said, brisk, all business now. They didn’t stop to catch their breath but continued rushing down the hallways and counting off where they couldn’t go or which doubled back on itself. Webby’s heart pounded and she crashed into the adults when both Scrooges stopped suddenly. The triplets likewise barreled into their uncle and, of all of them, only Webby 2 had continued.  
  
“What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing everyone stopped.  
  
“Mom?” Dewey asked gently, reaching out to what had to be an illusion. There were tears in his eyes and the boys approached her slowly, reverently.  
  
“Not your mother! No time to explain!” Scrooge 1 snapped. He waved his cane through Della’s form and it dispersed before reforming. The boys didn’t budge and he growled, exchanging a look with the other Scrooge. They pulled the boys, as well as a meek Webby 1, along.  
  
The end was in sight, Launchpad standing near the Sunchaser, but Magica 1 blocked their exit. She tossed an unconscious Magica 2 at Scrooge 2’s feet.  
  
“Turns out she wasn’t much of a fighter,” Magica 1 said. “You want her, you can keep her.”  
  
Despite Magica 1’s words, she seemed to be holding herself unnaturally still, as if she were in a fair amount of pain. Webby 1 surmised that the other Magica had removed her healing as a way of punishing her for fighting against her. She couldn’t say she was surprised, although she wished that Magica 2 had won instead. She backed up, heart in her throat.  
  
Scrooge 2 knelt at Magica 2’s side and checked her pulse. “She’s still alive. Just unconscious.”  
  
“I knew you’d care,” Magica 1 sneered. “You have a soft spot for her. I can tell. That’ll get you killed.”  
  
She raised her staff again and this time, she visibly cringed as though the movement was grating against her ribs. Webby smiled suddenly, glancing at the dimensions of the corridor, and bounced from one wall to another. Magica snarled, aiming at her and missing every time. Webby hadn’t been trained by Bettina Beakley for nothing.  
  
Although it was tempting to hit her in the head and possibly knock her out, that was too risky. She aimed for Magica’s no doubt re-broken ribs and kicked hard, putting all her strength behind it. Several other ribs cracked beneath her foot and Magica screamed, crumpling. She curled into a ball and then cried out again, as the movement must’ve triggered an enormous amount of pain. Webby was unsympathetic.  
  
“Is she going to be all right?” Webby 2 asked, anxious.  
  
“Let’s go!” Scrooge 1 said. “She’ll...she’ll recover. Eventually.”  
  
“Curse you, McDuck. And you, you little brat. You haven’t seen the last of me…” Magica spat and then screamed again. Tears streaked her cheeks.  
  
“You haven’t seen the last of me either, Aunt Magica,” a shadowy voice said from behind Webby and Webby turned, spying Lena at her back.  
  
Magica might’ve had a retort, but she was too stricken to utter it. Instead, they made their exit, carrying Magica 2’s unconscious form back toward the Sunchaser and ignoring Launchpad’s questions about her or what was going on.  
  
The mood was decidedly haunted about the Sunchaser as everyone settled down. No one took Launchpad up on his offer for Darkwing Duck and instead, everyone sat, thinking about whatever worst fear had assailed them. Webby 1 closed her eyes. This was going to be a long flight back.  
  
\-----  
  
Although Scrooge 2 wasn’t happy about it, he didn’t forbid Webby 2 from returning with Minima to help Webby with Lena. He was just glad to have Webby 2 back and they passed through the portal with a limp, unresponsive Magica in tow. Webby glanced back at her counterpart, who waved her good arm, and she waved back.  
  
“I’ll return in a couple days, I promise,” she called through the mirror. She couldn’t just run back here and then there again. She owed her grammy an explanation and the boys owed her an apology. Besides, now that she was back in her own dimension, everything felt almost right, but like a box that was now slightly too small to hold its contents. Had it changed or had she? She wasn’t sure.  
  
Webby found the boys waiting outside the archive room. They crowded her and Scrooge. Scrooge begged off, saying he had something to do (presumably a way to keep Magica from harming herself or anyone else), and left Webby with the boys. The triplets mobbed her, tackling her to the ground in a move that they’d never have done before. They must’ve been out of their minds with worry.  
  
“We’re so sorry! We shouldn’t have teased you and forced you through the mirror! And then it broke ‘cuz of us and we’re sorry!” they cried in unison. Webby could suddenly see why the triplets in the other universe had a problem with them speaking at once. It could be disconcerting if you weren’t used to it.  
  
They helped her back up, but they were all hugging her.  
  
“We won’t treat you like a third wheel again, we promise,” Huey said.  
  
“And we’re not gonna be mean to you just ‘cuz you’re a girl,” Dewey added.  
  
“And we won’t chase you away if you wanna play with us,” Louie finished. Then he did a double take. “Wait. Where’s your dolly?”  
  
Webby smiled mischievously. “I left it in the other dimension. I’m gonna try going around without it now. I wanna be like the other Webby and brave and not get scared in the face of danger. She’s so badass.”  
  
“You mean you met our counterparts? On the other side?” Huey asked and Webby nodded.  
  
“I’ll tell you all about it...if you promise not to treat me like a little kid,” she said.  
  
“We promise!” they chorused.  
  
“And if you let me go on your adventures with you,” she added.  
  
“We promise!”  
  
“In the other universe, Webby is friends with you guys and they treat her as an equal. I want that,” she said. She never would’ve dared say it and not back down before. But she held herself firm and met their gazes head-on. “And I mean it. Stop treating me like I’m a little kid and like I’m not as good as you just ‘cuz my Grammy is the housekeeper and your nanny.”  
  
“Wow…” Louie said, stunned. “You’ve changed.”  
  
Webby’s smile turned sly. “I had a little help.”  
  
She ducked her head back into the archive room, where she could see her counterpart still there, fingering her friendship bracelet where Lena lived.  
  
“And you’ll get to meet them soon, if Uncle Scrooge doesn’t have a fit about us going back and forth between the dimensions,” she added.  
  
“Tell us what happened!” Huey pressed.  
  
“We were so worried! We thought something bad had happened to you and we couldn’t do anything about it and then the note turned to confetti…” Dewey said.  
  
“Something bad did happen, but it’s okay,” Webby said and grinned broadly. “I had an adventure. Let’s get some cookies and milk and I’ll tell you all about it.”  
  
\-----  
  
“Can you do this?” Webby 1 asked anxiously. When Minima held up the bracelet on her wrist to examine it, she tensed. The young girl, who was maybe a year or two older than Webby 2, unnerved her. She reminded Webby 1 too much of Magica for her own comfort. It was funny, because Lena was technically of Magica too, more so than Minima, but Webby had always seen Lena as a separate entity. Minima looked like a mini-Magica, which was giving her the willies considering how close Magica had come to killing her.  
  
“It’ll take a while,” Minima said, frowning in consideration. “And you’re going to have to take the bracelet off.”  
  
Webby 1 cradled the bracelet. She was loath to remove the last bit of Lena she had left. She bit the inside of her cheek.  
  
“But you can do this?” she pressed.  
  
“Minima can do anything,” Webby 2 said, confident and smiling at her best friend. Minima offered her a small smile back. Webby 1 got the feeling that such expressions were rare for Minima and Minima had an emotionally closed off feeling that warned Webby 1 not to approach her.  
  
“I can,” Minima confirmed. “And since my aunt Magica’s magic is similar to hers, I can draw upon hers and use it to craft Lena a new body.”  
  
Webby 1’s eyes filled with tears she refused to shed. She felt like she was asking a great deal, to trust this relative stranger, but her counterpart clearly did. With misgivings, she removed the bracelet from her wrist and handed it to her. As she did, she thought she heard Lena object, but that could’ve been in her mind.  
  
“I’ll bring her back to you,” Minima said. “I promise. She’ll be safe with me.”  
  
Webby 1 stepped back from the mirror and Minima plucked the bracelet from her fingers and stepped back too, returning to her side.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Minima said. Webby 1 just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “She’ll be back before you know it.”  
  
“I hope so,” Webby 1 managed through a tight throat.  
  
“Bye, me from another dimension,” Webby 2 said and then smiled mischievously. “For now.”


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the loose ends are relatively tied up. This is the end of the story, folks.

Lena stumbled when she tried to walk. It was weird, like she was relearning how to do basic things, and she tripped over her own feet. Muttering darkly, hating that she had an audience for this, she let the other Webby help her up. While she was grateful for what they’d done for her, returning her to a corporeal form that could age like a normal duck, she wished they weren’t here to witness her struggle to move and get used to her new body. It looked exactly like her old body, but Minima said that until the magical connections were all in, she’d have some problems. Something about Magica’s power linking up with the other Magica’s and their magic not being quite the same meant Lena would have problems with coordination for a little while.

 

“Are you all right?” Webby 2 asked. Her saccharine sweet voice was a stark contrast to Webby 1’s tone. While she didn’t hate her, because she was a version of Webby, she didn’t really like her that much, either. She staggered again and Minima braced her this time.

 

Lena didn’t know what to make of her. She was biologically Magica’s niece, though she didn’t seem to exist in Lena’s universe. Minima seemed to dislike almost everyone except Webby and Lena’s beak twisted into a crooked smile. While that wasn’t quite true with Lena, Lena did prefer Webby’s company to everyone else’s. Although it’d probably have been different if it’d been this Webby as opposed to her own.

 

“I’d better not fall flat on my face when I see her again,” Lena warned, half stumbling, half shuffling over to the mirror. Webby 2 hadn’t told her counterpart that she’d be seeing Lena today because she wanted it to be a surprise. Lena found her excitement both endearing and highly irritating. The latter, she was fairly sure, was because she missed her Webby, what she considered the real Webbigail Vanderquack. Not this pink ninny.

 

“I can’t promise that,” Minima said, smirking. “But hey, you need to learn to walk before you can run, right?”

 

And then she shoved her through the mirror. Lena glowered at the younger girl and Webby 2 braced Lena before she crashed into the cement floor. All right, despite what she’d done for her, Lena was developing a rapid dislike of Minima.

 

With Webby 2’s help, she made it to Webby’s room and knocked, the friendship bracelet in her hand. It felt good to be able to breathe and be herself again, not tethered to someone, no matter how much she loved her. And all right, Lena would prefer being stuck with Webby than anyone else in the world (or both worlds). But that didn’t mean she liked being a shadow.

 

Cautious, she glanced behind her to see whether her shadow remained the same. She blinked. She didn’t cast one.

 

“Sorry about that,” Minima said, not sounding sorry at all. “I hope you don’t mind. Since you’re technically a creation and a shadow yourself, you don’t get one.”

 

Whatever. She’d deal. At least she didn’t have Magica whispering at her and insulting her. Verbal abuse sucked.

 

Webby 1 answered, not seeing her at first. Her gaze settled on Minima and Webby 2 as if she didn’t dare look at Lena.

 

“Really?” Lena said quietly, noticing how Webby 1 refused to look at her. “You’re kidding me, right?’

 

“You’re real,” she breathed and then, squealing loudly, she launched herself at Lena. 

 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Webby 1 said, bouncing off Lena and leaving her feeling oddly bereft. She hugged Minima (whose scowl told Lena that the younger girl didn’t appreciate it) and then Webby 2, who hugged her back. Lena, who knew next to nothing about the interdimensional stuff that’d been going on while she’d been trapped in Webby’s shadow, was half surprised that they didn’t get zapped when they touched. Or was that a science fiction thing? Lena didn’t know.

 

“Anytime you need us,” Webby 2 said and grinned at her. “We’ll be there. Just on the other side of the mirror.”

 

“Try not to need us too often,” Minima added and Webby 2 shot her a look. Chagrined, the dark-haired girl dropped her gaze.

 

Skipping off, assuming this was bye, for now, Webby 2 and Minima, who were walking hand in hand, returned toward the archive room. This left Lena and Webby alone; Webby squealed again, hugging her tightly.

 

“I’m so glad you’re back!” she said. She blinked. “You don’t have a shadow, Lena.”

 

“To be honest, I’m kinda glad I don’t,” she said. “I’d keep thinking it was Magica or that I was stuck with her.”

 

Webby smiled gently and guided her into her room. Her eyes were alight with affection and Lena relaxed, even if she did stumble a bit before she reached her bed. It was like coming home...and even though Webby was worse for the wear from the last few days, her smile was radiant as she beheld her.

 

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Webby said, unconsciously repeating herself.

 

“You said that already,” Lena teased and then kissed her on the top of the head. “Me too, Webby. Me too.”

 

\-----  
  
  
  
“Wow,” Huey said, staring at their counterparts through the mirror. Now that it’d been repaired, they could see each other clearly. He was tempted to pass through, to see whether McDuck Manor had changed and what everything and everyone else looked like, but he could save the exploration for later.

 

“They’re carbon copies of each other,” Louie said. “Jeez. I was right.”

 

“We are not!” Huey 2 protested, huffing at them.

 

“Lemme guess, you also have telepathy?” Louie said in a deadpan.

 

“Well, yeah, but, don’t you too?” Dewey asked.

 

“Man, I knew this wasn’t worth coming over here for,” Louie said. “I’m out.”

 

“C’mon, give it a few more minutes,” Huey said, grabbing Louie’s hoodie to hold him there. He stared at the other Huey.

 

“But they’re so lame,” Louie complained.

 

“We’re not lame!” Dewey from the other side protested. “Take that back!”

 

“Come over here and make me,” Louie said and then shrugged. “Or not.”

 

“We’re on a fact-finding mission here, to learn about our counterparts,” Huey said. “Not to provoke them into fighting us.”

 

“There isn’t that much to find out,” Louie complained. “They’re all, like, connected at the hip.”

 

Dewey, who’d been strangely silent this whole time, watched the proceedings.

 

“None of you know what happened to our mom, do you?” he asked and Louie stilled.

 

“She died,” the other Dewey said in a somber voice. “A long time ago. Before we were hatched. That’s all we know.”

 

“That doesn’t mean it happened here,” Huey 1 said, seeing his younger brother’s shoulders slump.

 

“It doesn’t mean that it didn’t,” Dewey countered.

 

“Absence of proof does not mean proof,” Huey argued.

 

“You don’t know any more about our mother than we do, do you?” Louie asked quietly and the three shook their heads on the other side of the mirror.

 

“We’re sorry,” the other Louie said.

 

“It’s fine,” Louie 1 said, brushing it off like it meant nothing. Huey had brought out the JWG and Louie groaned. As if on cue, the other Huey brought out his copy, which told Louie all he needed to know about what was happening next. He was out.

 

“Yeah...I’m out too,” Dewey said, seeing Louie leave. “Nice meeting me.”

 

“Hey, what’s going on here?” an unfamiliar voice asked and a rotund boy entered the room. He was eating a sandwich.

 

“Maybe later,” Huey said, tucking away the book beneath his hat. “Gotta go. Wait up, you guys!”

 

“Was it something I said?” Doofus asked, baffled, as Huey backed out of the room.

 

“No clue,” the triplets told him.   
  
  
  
“Weird,” Doofus said, still munching on his sandwich. “What a strange universe.”


End file.
